A Non-Existent Albino
by Univerce
Summary: "Bangkok, Baku, Cancun... Who'd have thought that after everything I'd done for them, they'd turn on me so easily, and with such a pathetic lie goading them on. Honestly, my heart had called those people family, and now all I see is their backs and all I hear are scoffs." A saint can only be a saint when the saint holds true to the teachings. Inspirational HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Falling From Sainthood**

Anyway, my current target is sitting in a business meeting, his head in clear view on the other side of the window. A few lines are all around his head, numbers popping up on both sides as my scope measures wind speed and angle. Lucky me; my back's to the wind and it's going to help carry the bullet.

The finger I have on the trigger twitches a few times as he stands up and gives a presentation. They had told me to wait until after said presentation to blow his brains out. Apparently it would send a message about the presentation topic to the people in the room. Well, whatever. So long as there's payment for dealing with my major fear of heights and risking everything I have to take this idiot down. Seriously, who gives a presentation on increasing sex slave production?

My codename is Saint, and for good reason, too.

He finally takes his seat and my finger immediately pulls the trigger, watching as his head snaps to the side and he falls from his seat.

"Good riddance," I mutter to myself, avoiding the thought of the target's current condition.

Quickly, I pack up my equipment, police my brass and head out. Another stroke of luck passes as cars pass at high speeds to get to the building my feet carry me away from. The police are probably arriving at the business's building, arresting person after person for illegal sex trafficking. Too bad their main target was just killed.

Well, whatever. I just saved a young woman's life, so the police will just have to get over it. And before you think 'you're crazy,' let me just point out that a half-naked woman was in the corner of the room, out of my sight, but clearly there. Several of the men kept turning to her and eyeing her. It's obvious she was there as a toy for when the meeting was over; a proverbial carrot on a stick.

Whatever happens to her, though, is up to the fools in blue. My job's done, so I'm going home and taking nice, long, hot bath! Yay! Bubbles!

* * *

"I feel so much better!" I cheer as I leave my bathroom with nothing on.

What? I live alone. It's not like someone's going to see me naked in my own house. Well, unless the blinds were 'accidentally' left open again… but that's just to tease my neighbor. It's hilarious when he passes out from a nosebleed. Fun fact, by the way; I always thought that was just some random thing they put in perverted adult cartoons to make people laugh.

Anyway, while standing in front of my dresser and going through my drawers, my sight catches the funniest thing happen once more from the corner of my eyes. The best part is, he was watering some flowers his sister has on the window sill. Man it's fun to mess with that guy!

Finally I decide on a white t-shirt and blue jeans, throwing on some white undies and a camisole over the white bra before pulling on my outer clothing. Taking some white socks from my drawer, my feet carry me downstairs to grab my tennis shoes; once again, white. With my socks and shoes on, my gaze turns to look at my reflection in my TV screen. My pale skin reminds me of my condition, and while walking out the door, my hands instinctively take hold of the gray jacket that always covers me when outside.

With my jacket slipped on, I start walking down the street. My neighbor is waiting in his front yard, leaning on his fence with an annoyed expression. Honestly, why does he always glare at me like that when this happens? The blind was, as said before, 'accidently' left open! Oh. And there's an entire tissue box in his hand, a ton of them in the other and held up to his nose.

"Seriously?" he asks, his blocked nose making it a little funnier.

With a bright smile, I nod my head, my white hair bobbing with it. "Yup!" Okay, maybe not so 'accidental.'

And then my feet continue walking onwards. After a few minutes, I pull an iPod from my jacket pocket, along with red ear buds, and start listening to a random playlist. When a successful kill is managed, this is my routine. But I make sure to do it a little more often than that, just so people don't get suspicious of me.

My eye twitches, and my instincts have warned me of an onlooker. And not just any onlooker, but the kind no assassin wants to have. With a frown, my eyes scan around, me moving my head like an idiot, acting like a normal civilian with a bad feeling. Scratching my head for a moment, my gaze turns back to my path, and making a face that looks like I'm thinking to myself, my feet start moving again.

In reality, that look around let me memorize a license plate number of a black Chevrolet a block down. Was my near perfect vision mentioned? My normally red eyes picked up the numbers almost instantaneously, and since the sun wasn't bothering me due to blue contacts, reading it was all too easy. Man, being albino sucks sometimes.

I pull my phone out and play with it for a few seconds, going into my messages and sending a random text message with the cryptic code we've always used. The mistakes that would be present in any text message give the license plate to a contact of mine. But we have to text back and forth a couple times to get the entire number across.

The last text she sends, to one that asked for a 'xake,' is 'I'm on it.' With a sweet smile on my face, I pick up my pace. Even though this person is doing as asked and checking the number out for me, that doesn't mean I don't want that cake. And the best part is, she lives nearby.

* * *

"You're not gonna like this, Sainty."

"Sainty?"

"Well, you're pastier than paste, and you've got one hell of a moral compass. Why not?"

This is a preplanned dialogue we made in case someone decided to follow me one day. And man, am I glad we did. As we go through the preplanned dialogue, my contact, named Carrie outside of work, hands me a plate with a two layer piece of triple chocolate cake… God I love when this woman's on her period. And, another fun fact, so glad mine never had the chance to occur.

Carrie, once we're done with our cake, takes the plates back to her kitchen, turning around to remind me about some random bet that we never made. The real reason she turned around was to look out her window for that Chevrolet. With a sigh, she nods to me. Immediately, I turn around in my seat and close the curtains that cover her living room's windows. A side note; they're an ugly shade of salmon.

"There's a car out there. But it doesn't look like it's got any equipment attached to it," she calls from the kitchen. "So I'm going to assume that they're just tailing you for your schedule right now."

With those closed, we move around the house, closing all the curtains and shades. We then head into the basement, flicking a switch that jams tech within a ten block radius. Any further and there'd be a real problem.

"Alright, Saint. Let's get started. Sit there."

I take a seat on a randomly placed chair, crossing my legs and placing clasped hands in my lap. My eyes stare straight forward as my body straightens. The only thing to look at is the picture on the wall; two shadowed people are holding hands as they stand in front of a background of a burning city. It's somewhat sobering, reminding me of the organization's mission.

"Now, the license plate number." I recite it from memory. "Good. Age."

"25"

"Rank?"

"Rising Controller."

"Number of successful missions."

"Classified."

"And finally, your codename and true name?"

"Codename: Saint. Identity: Evean Cole"

"Alright then. Voice recognition confirmed, all information is correct. You are who you are; big shocker," she scoffs. "Let's get this done, shall we?"

And Carrie drops herself into her world of computers and information. Honestly, I don't know how she does it; realistic me prefers reality to virtuality. Maybe that's why realistic me also prefers silent, ranged kills over seduction crap.

"Found you, bastard! …Crap."

I look at Carrie, giving her an intense stare. Slowly, I address her. "What happened?"

"You're not going to like this, Saint," she admits sheepishly. "We've caught the eye of a government agency. And one hell of a secret keeper, too."

My eyes widen and my already pale skin grows fainter. "Who?" I whisper.

"Um… I'm not quite sure _who_ they are, but I found the acronym SHIELD," she mutters dejectedly. "We're officially caught, and I'm sure the half-ass equipment we use isn't gonna cut it."

My eyes narrow. "Why?"

"… Because they're trying to trace me."

I jump up from my seat and grab her wrist, dragging her from the basement and slamming a button at the top of the stairs. The sound of beeping in the basement alerts me that the button's working, and that the information on the hard drives is being erased completely. Just because we have amateurish equipment, doesn't mean we don't know how this works.

"We've got three minutes. Grab your Emerge Bag. Let's go!"

Carrie dashes off to her bedroom to retrieve said bag while I pull some flash drives out from under the couch cushions. Each has a letter, and there's one for every character of the alphabet. Those are stuffed into my coat pocket, replacing the iPod that gets moved to my jeans pocket. When Carrie runs back out to me, her bag in hand, I'm collecting a couple disks from her kitchen.

Bringing them back to her, they're stuffed into a backpack on her back and she grabs her keys. One minute left before everything's erased. Then a new timer starts. We're out the door before the final minute can end.

Calmly, with smiles on our faces, we walk to her car parked on the street. I'm well aware that there's a bug placed in it. These people know how to work, probably. So I snatch the keys from Carrie's hand and taunt her on the yard, letting her know the car is a dangerous place.

"Give them back!"

I roll my eyes with a smirk; just because it's a signal, doesn't mean it's not funny. "Fine! Fine."

And I toss them into her hand and walk to the passenger side door. The final minute has ended, and we have thirty minutes to get away from this house. In the corner of my eye, I see that Chevrolet, and it's about to make my day. The man in the front seat is leaned back, pretending to be waiting for something. Sucks to be him; used that ploy in Cancun. Carrie taps on the top of her car, gaining my attention.

"Something wrong?"

With a mischievous smile, my eyes shift to the Chevrolet, back to her and wink. "Not a thing."

She sighs, knowing exactly what's about to happen, and gets in the car, starting it up. I, though, reach down and pick up a stray rock, then chuck it at the Chevrolet, nailing the windshield. The man jerks up and stares at me. To which I return my own blank stare. After a minute of waiting, a smirk crosses my face, accompanied by a wink, and my figure enters the car.

Once the door's closed, Carrie floors it away from the house. A check over my shoulder lets me see the man in the car fumbling, obviously caught off guard by my forwardness. This guy's life is about to be hell if he's the one hunting me.

* * *

We're about ten minutes away from the house when I pull out my phone. And not my ordinary one, either. The sleek white one with the _self-destruct_ button. When my finger taps the touchscreen, a large cloud of dust forms in the rear view mirror of the car. Carrie looks at me like I'm crazy.

"You put a bomb in my house!?"

Another cloud forms a second later. "And mine," I reply coolly.

* * *

"Any casualties?"

"No, sir. We had only just gotten to the houses when the bombs went off."

Agent Clint Barton rests his forehead on the steering wheel of a black Chevrolet, cursing his own stupidity under his breath.

"Sir?"

"What?"

"Is everything alright?"

"No… No, it's not… Keep me posted. Try to salvage anything of possible value. We need to catch these people before they disappear."

"Yessir!"

Hanging up his phone, Agent Barton stares ahead of his parked car. The girls car is right in front of his own, with the words 'you suck at your job' written on the back window. Whoever these two are, they've got the jump on the SHIELD agents following them, a rather impressive thing in itself. They ditched their car, gave covert signals, and what's more, Agent Barton had been fooled about them all the way up to the moment when the albino girl winked at him.

"Dammit."

* * *

"What now, Sainty?"

"We go and visit Kale, of course."

Carrie looks at her companion skeptically. "You really think she'll help us out?"

Saint nods her head. "Yes. I'm rising, remember? She's officially stuck in one spot. Besides, she owes me one for the incident in Baku last year, plus the year before in Bangkok."

"What about Budapest? Did she ever pay you back for that one?"

"Yup," I reply with a grin. "I got five deep dish chocolate pies out of that one!"

Carrie chuckles at the mention of my chocolate obsession. Kale, another tech operator for the girl's organization, lives just outside New York City, a day's drive from the small diner the two girls are currently eating. This same techie had needed rescuing from government military when her partner's attempt on the dictator of the country of Azerbaijan failed miserably. Her partner's seduction tricks were easily avoided and she herself was manipulated into a compromised situation. Then there was a personal attempt the year before in Turkey, where what little assassination experience she had failed to keep her out of trouble during a recon mission.

As a result, Saint swooped in like an angel and saved her from an immediate death sentence… by helicopter… both times… and _laughed_. After a quick propel from the chopper, the albino girl, who'd had an assault rifle engraved with a prayer in hand, dealt with a great number of enemy forces. She's since been mentioned in several places around the world by the name 'Angel of Death.' Sad part is, the people who started that nickname are from the organization, too. Apparently everyday Joes can't come up with awesome nicknames. Bet they wouldn't be quite so cliché, though.

A credit card under an alias name is all they use when they finish their lunch. And the second they're outside the diner, they cut it up and drop it in the trash. Some of the people who see this stare at them like they're crazy, but leave them alone.

What's more, no one will remember the girls for themselves; their appearances have changed drastically. Although Saint can't change her pale skin, her hair has been dyed pitch black, her color contacts switched from the blue ones to the brown ones. Her outfit has changed from mostly white with a gray jacket to mostly purple with a blue sweater.

Carrie, whose hair is usually a dark brown and straightened, has bleached hair with pink and blue stripes following the locks that have been curled into waves. Her  
makeup has been redone, since she actually knows how to use it, and her own outfit, which had been sweats and a tank top earlier, is now made up of a green t-shirt and black jeans. Her sandals have been replaced with a spare set of tennis shoes that had been in the car.

"Now then," Saint says as they climb into a stolen vehicle from a random parking garage; the idiot had left his spare key just in front of the front tire. "Let's get going. Kale should be expecting us soon."

"You got it, _boss_," Carrie replies obediently.

Saint rolls her eyes and watches the cars around her disappear as the stolen vehicle pulls away from the restaurant. While the car pulls out of the parking spot and onto the lot's ramp, a familiar Chevrolet appears and pulls in. Saint smirks happily.

"You know what, Carrie?"

"Yeah, Saint?" she sighs wearily after noticing the car as well, knowing very well where this is going.

"Leave me here."

Saint's partner looks at her dubiously, but doesn't argue. With the press of a button, the doors are unlocked and Saint exits the vehicle and starts walking away. Carrie, on the other hand, continues onwards towards New York City and her coworker's home. She may be Saint's partner, but she's by no means an able fighter. Besides, Carrie is only barely associated with Saint's alias persona. And there are… _things_ the techie wants to do.

While the car pulls past her, Saint waves goodbye to her partner with a bright and mischievous grin. When the car disappears, the grin shrinks to a sad and soft smile. A sigh escapes the girl's lips and she's rather glad she made her friend leave without her. If Saint- scratch that. If _Evean_ had gone with her, there would have been hell to pay for it.

"Now then," she mutters to herself. "What am I going to do with you?"

She turns around and makes eye contact with a man climbing from a cheverolet, his eyes widening when their sights connect. With a knowing smirk and a wink, Evean breaks into a run down the street. Not long after, she can hear him calling for her to stop, along with rushing footsteps.

"Ha ha! This should be fun!" she calls into the wind.

* * *

Hidden behind a red, ugh, _Prius_, I look through the windows at a man who's out of breath. He's going slowly, a bow and arrow set and ready in his hands, as he silently slows his breathing. The thought of being hunted like that makes me squirm; it makes me feel like a white tailed deer. After a quick shiver, I ghost past a few cars. Somehow his ears pick up my movement and he pulls his arrow back, aiming at the spot where my presence had been.

His aim scans the cars quickly, and he slowly relaxes the draw. Still holding his arrow on the nock, he starts moving again. It's kind of enjoyable, playing cat and mouse with him. Although, I'm wondering whether Tom or Jerry will be winning this one. Hopefully it's Jerry; no one's too fond of being arrested, and I know that _I_ don't want to go through useless torture.

One poke of my head around the front of the car, my gaze catches his back to me. Taking a deep and silent breath, my badass mode turns on; I'm no longer Saint, as personally decided, so assassin mode is no longer a good title. Stealthily, and with all the assassin gone badass skills that had been acquired over the years, I sneak up behind him. Every step he takes is one of my own.

When I'm finally behind him, and he's looking a certain way, my elbow of the opposite direction reaches up and slams into the back of his jaw, just below the ear. He's a bit taller than me, so it's not the easiest thing to do, but it stuns him perfectly. I then jam my heel into the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground. To make sure he doesn't fall on his face, he lets go of his arrow and his hand catches his weight.

Taking no pity, I jump up and land on his back, dropping him completely to the ground. There _may_ be a few fractured ribs, not to mention an incapacitated knee and a fuzzy blindness for the next few hours.

"You know…" I mumble, crouching down on his back. "You're actually kind of cute… And I just realized that I can actually say that now!" I cheer with joy, clapping my hands and bouncing slightly.

His glazed eyes let me know he has no idea what I'm talking about. A small groan escapes his lips as I move my feet from his back and take his bow from him. The grip he has on it makes it a bit difficult, especially since he reflexively tightens it, but it's pried from his grasp anyway. Taking a close look at it, I decide it's perfect for a souvenir and slip it onto my shoulder. Next is to also take the quiver from his back and the keys from his pocket; easy, by the way.

"Thanks for the new toy," I whisper in his ear before kissing his temple teasingly. "Hope you get better~!" I sing over my shoulder.

And with that, I walk off towards the ground floor, where he'd left his Chevrolet behind. The keys are swinging on my finger as my feet carry me down and to the car. Before even thinking of driving away with it, I switch the license plate with another car. The bow's pretty useful already; there was a multi-tool that pops out in the handle.

Once the bow's put back the way it was, it and the awesome looking quiver get tossed into the passenger seat while their new owner climbs into the driver's. Starting the car, I leave the public parking garage and drive away. He's going to be pissed when he realizes what happened, and my conscience is currently applauding me for it.

* * *

"How the hell did you manage to lose not only her, but your equipment and car, too?" Nick Fury questions with annoyance clear on his face.

The man's got his hands on his desk, gripping the edge in frustration as he glares at the agent in front of him. Clint Barton, codenamed Hawkeye, had been outdone by a girl and relieved of his equipment. Only his arrow selector remained on his finger, which made her using his arrows impossible… Although, if she finds the spare on the bottom of the quiver, things could become problematic. But she'd run out of the specialized projectiles eventually.

"I'm sorry, sir," is all he can say.

"Gee, birdy. Maybe we should've gone with you?"

"Shut it, Stark!" Fury snaps.

The bearded man at the table behind Clint Barton raises his hands in submission. "Whatever you say, eye patch."

"This is serious, Tony," a red haired woman scolds. "This girl not only managed to off a man recorded as a sex offender and trafficker, who was also under protection close to Fort Knox standards, but she outdid a _SHIELD_ _agent_. Stop making a joke of this."

Tony Stark shrugs his shoulder. The room is filled with people of different appearances and expressions. A man with glasses and unkempt brown hair is staring at a picture of an albino woman with bright blue eyes as she winks towards the camera. Said picture had been taken by a hidden camera in the rear view mirror of the missing car just before she got into her friend's car and drove away from a residence that exploded ten minutes later.

"Do we have any idea where she's gone?" he asks.

"No. Metro police in New York are keeping an eye out for the car, but I doubt they'll find it. This girl outdid Barton, remember? I think she'll be able to avoid a few men in blue uniforms," Fury remarks as he sits down in his chair and rubs his forehead. "What exactly did she do, anyway, Barton?"

"Well," the agent starts, trying to collect his thoughts. "Well, she definitely snuck up behind me somehow. And the only feeling I remember is being nailed in the jaw just below my ear. It was pretty precisely aimed, too. After that, a few generic pains and a crash into the ground. That's probably when she decided to take my things…"

His frown deepens as he tries to recall something else.

"Yes, Agent Barton?" Fury urges.

Clint Barton looks at the table, and the red headed woman could swear she sees a pink tinge to his face. "I think she said something about me being… cute."

Tony Stark bursts into laughter. The man in the glasses chuckles lightly as a smirk crosses his face. The red haired woman stares at him blankly, laughing hysterically in her head. Everyone else in the room has a similar expression, varying from absolute hilarity to simple amusement.

"Dr. Banner," Fury calls over the noise, the only person not feeling humored by the agent's words. "Think you can track Agent Barton's equipment?"

Banner, the man with glasses and unkempt hair, nods his head. "If it's got something on it _to_ track."

Clint Barton looks at him. "There's a beacon on it that activates when I go unconscious. But the signal may or may not have been activated, since it probably wasn't on me when I finally blacked out."

The doctor nods his head and looks to Fury. "Can we activate the beacon remotely?"

Nick Fury sighs to himself. "I hope so. In the meantime, Agent Romanoff, assist Agent Barton with this one. Stick together. We can't afford her to get away again. Stark!"

Tony Stark, who'd been lightly banging his head on the table out of hilarity, sits up straight, trying to hide the grin wanting to break across his face. With a simple glare from Fury, it manages to be suppressed.

"Help Dr. Banner. Thor, Rogers," he addresses the final two people in the room. "I want you two to get ready to go out once the science geeks finally trace her. The agents may need some backup with this one."

"With all due respect, sir," says a blonde, short haired man, "isn't that a bit overkill for one single girl?"

Fury eyes the soldier carefully. "No, Rogers. No I don't. This girl managed to nail a man SHIELD couldn't nail for three years, and by evidence it only took her a few weeks. She managed to hide from SHIELD's radars for several years, only showing up long enough to fuel urban myths and legends. And she even managed to escape us a few times after nailing our own targets. I wouldn't be too surprised if this brat could outdo your super serum."

Rogers looks at his feet in contemplation, trying to imagine someone that could beat himself; being a super soldier makes him one tough customer. If this girl is as much as Fury makes her out to be, then the entire group in the room should be worried. Tony, though, sees no real reason to be.

"Well, then!" he claps. "Brucey, let's get to work!"

Bruce Banner stands up from his seat, taking the girl's picture with him, and follows Tony Stark out the door.

"Don't wait up for us!" comes the cocky remark that obviously marks Tony Stark's arrogant attitude.

* * *

The chill of being hunted like a deer has turned to a thrill, and is still running through me. I'm somewhat hoping that the guy manages to catch up to me again. A small sound, like beeping, reaches my ears, and my eyes narrow as my ears focus in on it. Pulling over to the side of the road, my gaze turns to the bow and quiver on the passenger's seat. A small flash of red hits the upholstery, and immediately I take hold of the quiver. Pulling it over to me, and flipping it upside down, my sight sees a black button-like object flashing red.

"A tracer? Really? Don't these people trust their own?" I sigh in annoyance while shaking my head.

It then occurs to me that it could probably be a beacon for letting an ally know that something's gone wrong. The organization does that sometimes, when large scale operations are necessary. With that in mind, I smirk and leave it there, those gears in my head turning mercilessly.

"This could be fun," I mutter to myself, replacing the quiver and pulling back out into the streets of New York City.

* * *

Stretching out on the hood of yet _another_ stolen car, my stare goes up to the sky. Out in the countryside in some random burned field I wait for my knights in shining armor, just hoping to get the chance to humiliate them. Let's be honest, I _really_ want to make their lives miserable. Unfortunately, though, the day goes by slowly and they never show up. How sad for me.

With a deep and disappointed sigh, I force myself up from the car hood and climb into the driver's seat. The dark hair color Carrie had chosen for me is starting to bug me, and my albinoness coming back would be a wonderful blessing right about now. It made me, me.

As 'my' car speeds down the road, this niggling feeling starts up in my tummy. The sun is falling behind the horizon I drive towards, and my eyes are having a slight problem seeing in front of me. Man; should've bought sunglasses earlier. Anyway, squinting my eyes, what little my sight can make out is a slight variation in the heat shimmers rising from the road. Not something to worry about too terribly, but yeah, something to worry about terribly. Stretching and stiffening my entire body, several bones pop.

"Come on, you guys. I'm not gonna wait all day," I mutter under my breath, focusing on the variation.

That's when I noticed it from the corner of my eye. My foot slams on the break, the car going into a power slide down the road, turning 180 degrees and slamming my foot on the accelerator. Never actually done _that_ one before. Whatever was coming at me flies by the car about 20 feet further in the direction I had been going. It then proceeds to explode and leave a crater in the road and burned field. Kind of makes me feel a little bad for the farmer who owns that land; sort of my fault.

Driving with my knees, I pull the quiver from that cute guy I beat the crap out of onto my right shoulder. Then snatch the stolen bow and slide it on with it. Watching the jet in the distance, doing my best to time my escape precisely, my body dives from the car, just before another missile nails it. Of course they fly forward, knowing full well that someone like me survived it; it'd be anticlimactic _not_ to at this point.

What they don't expect is the arrow sent towards them. Funny thing is, me and boredom don't mix. So I inspected the arrows and quiver carefully, finding this nice little gadget on the bottom of the quiver. Each time the button on it gets pressed, it switches the type of arrow head used. Yeah, this thing is pretty freaking sweet; _so_ glad my brain thought to 'borrow' it from the fool who thought he could take me. Side note: I used an explosive arrowhead.

As the arrow hits the hovering jet's windshield, it explodes, no doubt cracking the windshield as the jet crashes to the ground. And finally, one mock yawn in their direction, and then covering my mouth as it turns into a real one. After rubbing my eyes for a moment, my eyes stare at the lit up jet; still happy I have those contacts in.

"Hums... I don't have a way to write 'you suck at your job' for this. And it's definitely rude to _not_ leave a calling card at this point… Well, crap."

Readjusting the quiver so its strap crosses my torso from bottom left to top right, my feet carry a disappointed me away from the wreckage. Is it so much to ask for a little challenge? That's when my ears catch the sound of the jet's door bursting open.

When my attention turns me to face the jet, I see the one and only Iron Man climbing out, two people into black jumpsuits under his arms. Mine cross and that saying 'patience is a virtue' passes through my head. Time to wait patiently for him to set them down. In my head, a childlike version of myself is skipping through a field of burning flowers singing the Smurf's theme.

As he sets those people down, a second person, dressed up in red, white, and blue spandex, comes out next, helping an injured red head out as well. It looks like her head is bleeding, which makes me shiver. Despite being an assassin (former), I still can't handle the sight of my own handiwork. That was one thing the organization could never train me for; it just looks horrible, no matter what.

So, with a scowl on my face, I load another arrow onto the bow I'm holding.

"I'd drop that if I were you," comes a low and growling voice from behind me.

"Aw. But it's so much fun to play with!" I whine back.

With a smirk on my face, I turn to see the agent of cuteness, who was completely humiliated, a few feet away with a drawn bow. There's a cut on his forehead, his knee is wrapped up and the bandages are barely visible, plus his arms are shaking. Raising an eyebrow at him, I swiftly cover my ears as a thunderclap and lightning screw with my senses.

"Okay," I mutter. "Ow."

The man holding an arrow aimed for me looks past me at someone else. And quite frankly, no one should be stupid enough to _not_ know it was Thor landing.

"Let's see," I say quietly holding up one finger at a time. "That just leaves Mr. Green."

I'm surrounded by the avengers, one of whom is indisposed at the moment. And the best part? They're all boys who I get to personally humiliate completely. Placing my hands on my hips, my gaze scans from each one to the next, turning slowly.

"Oh, dear," I say in mock worry, dramatically cupping my cheek with my free hand. "What a predicament."

"Ma'am," Cappy says. "Just come quietly. None of us want to hurt you."

"Then you're obviously underestimating me," I hiss. That's one thing I can't stand; chauvinists. "So I suggest you drop your pathetic ideals of a weak-willed young woman."

He stares at me, a small amount of shock on his face, and I finally decide it's time to get started. Whenever I deal with big groups there's always this list of things I _have_ to do before engaging and a set of rules I feel I _must_ follow. My friends that have commented on it over the years have said it's OCD… not quite sure myself. First rule and objective, insult and injury are always a good kick start.

"So, then, mister World War II patriot. I've got a question for you." I can see the wariness in his eyes as I address him. "How does it feel to be completely out of touch with those around you?"

His eyes flinch, and the pain and sorrow behind it are clear. Looks like I hit a nerve, and the right one, at that. Truthfully, that particular question had been there since he came out of the ice; kind of hoping he'd actually answer me on that one.

"Watch it, snow white," Iron Man warns. "You've no idea what you're trying to get into here."

"Do you?" I ask blandly, turning to him. No one has to see his face to know he thinks he does. "Last time I checked, I plan on humiliating each and every one of you. I've already done so to Robin Hood, so he'll be easy. Especially with his anger rising," I comment, looking over my shoulder as the agent's glare darkens.

"Heed her not, Brother Barton. She cannot escape us, no matter what she-"

"Oh, but I can!" I clap happily, interrupting Thor. "You see, oh ignorant one, I have a foolproof plan that none of you could possibly interfere with."

"Oh really?" Cappy asks.

Rule number two: reveal your plan in something of a monologue, to get them to think you're a crackpot and a fool yourself. Hello, false sense of security! Nice to meet you! I'm the person that's about to completely obliterate you… This is the fun leading up to the adrenaline.

"Yuppers!"

"Yuppers?" Iron Man scoffs.

"Yes! Yuppers. Let's see, first off," I point towards Cappy, "I'll knock you flat on your ass and steal your toy! Then," I look over my shoulder, "I'll be stealing a few more arrows from Robin Hood. After that, Thor here gets a face full of my foot and possibly an arrow to the back of his leg; not too sure if the arrow will be necessary... Leaving Roboman all by himself."

I turn to Iron Man and grin evilly. "And all I have to do to knock you out of the sky is lift up my shirt."

"Oh, sweetie, please. I've got a girlfriend, and she takes plenty good care of me."

Yeah, right. All that comment needs is my shrug, but who wouldn't want the last word? "You're the idiot here."

I stare at him for a moment, then blink, and so do they. Rule number three: wait for the blink. As with all of my attacks and strategies, I wait until that moment when their eyes are just about to close before making a move. Since Cappy's first on my list, it's him that's watched from the corner of my eye.

Taking only a moment, I dive tackle him in the gut, knocking him flat on his ass and slipping his shield from his arm. That same shield protects me as soon as I roll into a crouch from an oncoming arrow, which bounces off harmlessly. While Cappy catches his breath, I charge Agent Cuteness and shield bash him in the shoulder before doing so one more time to the jaw.

Slipping around him, I avoid a flying hammer and glowing blast, taking the arrows from his quiver as I do so and tossing them quite the distance. Holding Cappy's shield back up blocks a returning hammer, sending it a great deal out of the way, and jarring my shoulder while it's at it. With another turn, a glowing blast hits the shield and knocks into Thor, who I immediately rush and slam my foot into his face, using him as a spring board and backflipping. Honestly, no time for an arrow here, so I'm a little disappointed by that, but oh well.

Iron Man is currently in the sky as I take the shield off my arm and throw it, sending it like a Frisbee and slamming it into Cappy's head. When it returns, I block another arrow with it from Robin Hood before doing the same to him that I did to Cappy. All three of the boys I've dealt with so far are down. Thor is a little surprising, since I didn't actually kick him that hard, but hey, I'm not complaining. And as predicted by my monologue, I started to lift my shirt.

"I told you," Iron Man says confidently, "that I already have a very good girlfriend. That's not gonna work." And with that he crosses his arms and drops back to the ground.

"I told you you're the idiot," I mutter as I reach my under the side of my bra, grabbing something from there, and drop my shirt back down.

"So. Give up?"

"Hmm… Nope!"

And like I'd tossed the shield, I flick my wrist, sending a two sided black pin that attaches to his armor. He stares at it for a second, then looks back up at me, chuckling.

"Is that really the best you can do?"

"Is it?"

I can hear him whispering to someone and he stares back down at my pin. Instantly he tries to pull it off, but to no avail.

"Good night, Roboman." I say with a sultry tone and a menacing grin.

And with that an electrical current runs through the suit, locking it up and freezing him in place. Lucky for him, though, he can still talk.

"What the hell!?"

"It's an electric current dispenser. When dropped or attached to something, it releases an electric current, which in this case disrupted your suit's current and immobilized you. No matter how amazing your tech is, Stark," I smile sweetly, "there's always a simple way to deal with it!"

Winking at him, I move towards Robin Hood. Crouching down, I check his pulse. Next, I poke at his arm a couple times, gaining a moan when I poke a little ways below his shoulder at the spot the shield had connected with. Nodding in satisfaction that I did my job, I pull a thin rod from under the back of my shirt. Bet you didn't know I had that there, did you? Removing my jacket, I tear it into strips.

Taking his arm gingerly in hand, I forcefully snap the bone back into place, gaining a yelp in protest. I can tell he's trying to wake up as his eyelids flutter. Rolling my eyes, I slip the torn fabric under his arm and place the rod next to it. Then I tie the fabric securely, hoping to keep the upper part of his arm straight.

Checking his pulse one more time, I then remove his quiver and replace the arrows that I'd taken from it. That makes two sets of arrows. While I walk towards Cappy next, I can hear dear little Iron Man yelling at someone to get his suit back up and operational. Checking Captain America's pulse, I pull his suit's helmet… mask… thing off and mess with his hair, looking for a bleeding part of the head. Luckily, I find none.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Stark yells at me as I move again. "Leave them alone!"

"Don't get your metal panties in a bunch. That's got to be uncomfortable," I calmly say back.

Crouching next to Thor, I check his pulse and poke him a couple times. There's no real damage to him, lucky bastard. But there is this nice scorched part on his bright silver armor, along with a dirt footprint on his face; it's kind of cool knowing I knocked him down.

"Now then," I sigh as I stand up and turn towards Stark. "Your turn."

Walking over to him, I can hear multiple threats being thrown at me, each one involving the destruction of my reputation and freezing of my assets. Quite hilarious, really, considering I have nothing of any true value to be destroyed. My reputation is as an assassin, which I've left behind to protect my friends and coworkers. Any assets I had were in my house, which I blew to pieces when SHIELD first caught up to me and Carrie.

"Calm down, Tin Man."

"First off, I have a heart. Second, this isn't a tin suit, nor iron, for that matter. It's an alloy composed of-"

"I don't care!" I snap at him, making him stop ranting. "Now, do you want out of that thing or not?"

I can sense his hesitation. "… Sure."

"Good. Now hold still."

I pull the pin-like object from the suit and take ahold of the face plate. Pulling at it, I finally get it off after wiggling it a few times. He makes his suit pretty dame fitted; I put a lot of muscle into that. Once the plate is off, I see Tony Stark smirking in all his arrogant glory.

"Now then," he says calmly. "Why don't you come quietly?"

"Because I'm not going to be tortured by you people. Your ideals are faulty and your treatment of other human beings is sick."

"And yours isn't?"

"No, it's not," I reply decisively. "When my people capture someone, we treat them with respect," I explain as I move around to the back of the suit and study it. "We take care of them and earn their trust. When we've done that, then we interrogate them and get the information we want from them. And they always do so willingly. Hell, quite a few people we've captured have become moles for us."

"So what are you, then? A decoy?"

"No," is my flat reply as I slide my finger along a crease in the metal to a panel on the left of the small of his back.

"A lackey?'

"Hell no," I sigh as I pull the multi-tool from the bow on my shoulder.

"Oh! You're the leader!"

"Not even close."

"Damn."

"Aren't you supposed to be smart?"

"Hey, I'm working with limited information right now. And my info collector is currently offline thanks to your little toy."

I roll my eyes as I play with the wires in the panel. The suit's backups kick in and the back opens as I step away. Tony Stark backs out of his suit, leaving it open as he stares at it in wonder. Finally, he looks at me critically.

"How'd you do that?"

I smile softly and place my finger to my lips. "That's a secret!

And with that, I walk away from him, two quivers on my back and a compound bow in hand. But I turn around real quickly, knowing Stark's still watching and wave goodbye.

"Tell Robin Hood 'Yes! I did say he's cute!'"


	2. Chapter 2

**I Have No One**

It's been a week or so and the Avengers still haven't captured the albino assassin. Tony Stark had been relieved of his suit by the girl herself, yet he didn't capture her. Clint Barton admits to not wanting to harm her, although he admits that when she insulted him, he did feel like putting an arrow through her chest. Thor had called the girl an enigma, believing that something about her had been protecting her from them at all cost – the word 'magic' had flitted through his mind at the declaration.

Bruce Banner and Steve Rogers were the only two not bothering to come up with excuses at this time. They sit quietly at the table and watch Nick Fury's agitated pacing in front of the conference table. When he finally sits down, it's slowly, deliberately, and with a shaking composure that shows both rage and serene calm.

"So, Cyclops," Tony starts. "Any idea how she managed to take us all on and win?"

Nick Fury turns to the billionaire and glares cruelly, setting his jaw in a seething expression; so much for the calm. "No, Stark. I don't," he replies quietly.

Steve jumps in before Tony's open mouth does any more damage. "Sir, she managed to take down a demigod. This girl is more than a super soldier, and she's definitely more than a mere assassin. Maybe we should just track her for a while and leave her alone?"

"Bad idea, boys," a soft, angelic voice says.

Everyone turns to a young teenage girl in a summer dress. Barely 14, this small girl has an assault rifle attached to her back and her dress covered in blood. A maniacal smile crosses her face as the Avengers stand up in a defensive manner. Just because she looks young, doesn't mean she's not dangerous, and that blood on her sure doesn't make her seem innocent.

"Calm down, men. Meet Agent Nora. She's the youngest agent we've got… technically. She's also," he continues as he stares at her, "supposed to be on a mission in Indonesia."

"All done, boss man!" she says, spreading her arms and running towards him, playing airplane. "All done!"

She slides to the side of him and salutes with a cheery grin on her face. Nick Fury shakes his head at her and turns back to the men trying to decipher what's going on. Bruce is the first one to think of something.

"Is she…?"

"In all actuality, this 'little' girl is around 38. Something happened to her as a child and she got stuck in this form. We're still trying to figure it out."

"Yeah, yeah. Scoot the chair back, Nicky! I want to sit in your lap!" She whines as she pulls on the trench coat the director wears.

With a weary sigh, he pushes a little ways from the table and Agent Nora climbs into his lap. Everyone else in the room stares at them in completely stunned silence. He's listening to someone, a seemingly little girl, no less, and letting a childlike woman sit in his lap.

"Now then!" she says crossing her little legs and turning her childlike face serious. "Who exactly are we hunting?"

"An albino with the codename Saint," Nick Fury informs her.

"Aren't we going to talk about the midget sitting on your lap?"

"Drop it, Stark."

Tony raises his hands and backs off.

"Good goat!" Nora cheers with a bright smile.

"Hey!"

"So, when do we leave?" she asks, looking up at Fury.

"We don't. For now, we'll monitor her and see what she does. You're on that one, Captain, with Barton and Romanov once they've fully healed. Hopefully she'll return to her commanders and we'll be able to catch them."

Thor is still staring at the childlike woman, wondering just what happened to her, as she pouts at the director's words.

* * *

Slowly, silently, I slip through the drenched alleyways of New York City, hiding under the fire escapes from the rain. Tony Stark had given me a badge to enter Stark Tower if I ever needed help two weeks ago, after pulling it from his suit and rushing to catch up to me. It's amazing that he trusted me just because I checked on his friends and got him out of that suit. Why he's such a fool is beyond me, but right now, that help could save my life.

Unfortunately for me, my 'friends' have turned on me. After a week running from SHIELD to protect them, I had returned to Kale's home, only to be shot at by the techie's partner. So much for mutual trust and understanding. It turns out Carrie has never particularly liked me, and she made that abundantly clear last Saturday when she laughed in my face as I was running from Kale's place. The little brat had spread the rumor that I'd gone rogue and joined the rival agency just to spite everyone. But there was one thing Carrie forgot about.

I still have those flash drives. Well, one of them, at least. And it's the most important one. The drive labeled letter 'Z' is the one that contains the aliases, codenames, and identities of every operative in the organization. Had Carrie realized that it was not part of the set in the bag she'd torn from my hand that night, she wouldn't have treated me so poorly.

Leader's going to give her hell for this, too. She managed to recover mission data from the last 20 years but failed to recover _the_ most important drive. Heh. That should teach the little bitch to turn on her partner. She should have realized that it would've been separated, being the most important thing from the rest of it, to ensure it stayed safe.

There it is. Stark Tower. With the badge clutched tightly to my chest, my form leaves the alleyway and power walk towards it through the drizzle. It's obvious that I'll be soaked by the time I reach the door. Thankfully, it only takes a few minutes to get to the building. But Stark had told me to avoid the main entrance. Instead, he gave me clear instructions to travel to the side of the building and look for a lighter section of the wall. And I do just that.

Looking up at the structure, my body sucks in a deep breath and my feet force me up to the door. Holding out the badge, I call the name Tony had given me.

"Jarvis?"

Immediately a symbol resembling the Avenger's 'A' came up on the lighter surface and a thin line runs along my body. When the line retreats, it dawns on me what just happened. It had scanned me for recognition. And the fact that I'm not an employee, nor anyone who _should_ know about this entrance, only makes my being here worse!

"Welcome, Saint," a bodiless voice calls, shaking me from my worry.

The section of the wall snaps back about a centimeter, then moves aside. Past the opening is a pristine white corridor bathed in blue lights. It reminds me somewhat of that light Tony Stark has in his chest; the arc reactor.

"Please, come in. There's an elevator on the left side of the corridor. I shall alert Mr. Stark of your arrival."

I step in through the opening as instructed, but not before hiding my bow and empty quivers in the bushes, and walk a few steps. A new door opens, startling me, and inside is the elevator mentioned before. Stepping into the metal box, my body turns for me to see no buttons. Thinking for a moment, my gaze shifts around the elevator as the door shuts. It's pretty freaking huge, and that sort of makes sense, since this is Tony Stark. There's enough space to fit two dozen people in here comfortably, not elbow to side.

"Weird… Jarvis?"

"Yes, Miss Saint?"

First, fix that. "For starters, call me Evean, not Saint. And could you take me to Tony Stark, please?"

"Of course, Miss Evean."

And the elevator finally moves. I always did like the feeling of an elevator moving up and down. It gave me that light feeling you get on roller coasters. The feeling soon disappears, much to my displeasure, as the elevator stops and the door opens. But I do not like what I'm looking at.

Agent Cuteness is standing there in front of the elevator, staring at me in complete disbelief. It's kind of… well, cute, the way he's staring at me. Out of tradition, just because I can, I smirk and wink.

"Hi, Cutie!" I greet him. "Need a lift?"

And with those few words, and maybe a slight pink tinge that I _swear_ I saw, his eyes sharpen and he tries a jab at me, which, of course, is dodged, myself sliding to the side of the elevator and against the wall next to the door. The agent wastes no time following me, but I surprise him by slamming my elbow into his ribs. This guy just can't handle being around me can he? Is it the feminine part? 'Cause that's kind of sexist. Or maybe it's the stereotypical idea of albino conditions being weak. Which makes it racist.

In a quick follow-up, the base of my other arm's palm slams into his nose, sending him back. The sound of the elevator door closing registers to my ears. Then my entire body goes in to tackle him to the ground and pin his arms under my legs. With my knees and weight on his wrists, his struggling is pointless. Assassin gone badass, for the win!

"Jarvis. Tony Stark, please," I call out, blowing some hair out of my face.

"Of course, Miss Evean."

It's nice being able to hold down a government trained agent. That is, until he knees me in the tailbone. Taking advantage of my momentary weight shift, he head butts me, sending me back this time, and pins me down. Well damn… Didn't see that coming. That's when the door finally opens at my _original_ destination.

"Jesus Christ, Barton! I know she calls you cute, but you don't have to ravage her!"

I snicker at Tony's joke. "Thanks, Stark. Now would you kindly get the rapist off me, please?" I ask sweetly, turning my attention and an innocent smile towards the billionaire.

"With pleasure," he responds. "C'mon, Birdbrain, get up," he says, pulling Agent _Barton_ off of me and into the room.

I quickly get up and follow, rubbing my poor injured tailbone. Although the answer is kind of obvious, it doesn't stop me from questioning if he had to put so much force into the hit.

"I should sue for assault," I comment indignantly.

"You should _sue_ for _assault_? You _stole_ my equipment after _beating_ me unconscious!"

"Did you expect me to lay out on a car and pose for you?" That tinge from earlier comes back full force at both the implication of my words and probably a little of his rage. Oh, and that reminds me. "Hey, Tony? Would you be so kind as to send someone from security to that secret entrance of yours and have them bring me my toys from the bushes next to it?"

Barton glares at me, extremely displeased. In return, I stick my tongue out like a child as Tony sends some instructions via Jarvis. As soon as he's done with that, he moves towards a bar.

"So, 'Saint.' What would you like? Martini? Bloody Mary? Or are you more of a tomboy and preferring a beer?"

I turn to him and shake my head with a smile. "Vodka, please! And it's Evean, too."

Both boys look at me like I'm crazy. Not surprising, really. An assassin who give out their name freely is almost like a fluffy bunny holding up a sign that says 'eat me, please!'

"Evean, then… With?" Tony asks carefully.

"Hmm… Got any banana rum?"

Tony and Barton stare at me like my head's been replaced with a coo-coo clock. Seriously, what's with these two?

* * *

Clint Barton, as Evean learns to call him, stares at the albino talking and joking with Tony. The girl had completely immobilized his suit only two weeks ago and somehow they were on the best of terms. What's more, he doesn't even seem worried about the fact that a trained killer got in through a secret entrance that only the Avengers should know about.

His thoughts are interrupted by a red-haired woman walking out of the elevator, two empty quivers and a compound bow in hand. Clint immediately recognizes the bow, but before he can claim it, the albino is up off the couch and hugging it tightly, thanking the woman profusely. The agent's mind then wanders to how she could have such an attachment to it after only a few weeks. An attachment like that took Clint a year to form with his bow.

After losing the one the girl now carries back to the couch, he'd had to start using a spare. And although it's got way better features and statistics, the one the girl has had been his preferred bow for several years, saving his neck time and time again.

While Tony and Pepper, the girl had introduced herself as to the Albino, talk to each other about some contract, the albino looks over the bow carefully. The way she moves it is delicate, as if she's holding something made of glass. And when she runs her fingers along the frame, Clint can't help but notice a strain on her face. When she sighs, he notices a sadness in the bright blue irises.

"I'm sorry, Barton," she says quietly, catching the attention of all three others in the room.

She looks up at Clint sadly, as if she's about to cry. Her hold on the bow tightens and she stands up and walks over to him. With a weak smile, she holds out the bow for him to take. When he does, he realizes why she's so sorry. The material of the bow had been damaged, a crack in it forming from where the wire's pulley connects to the bottom of the frame.

"He's a really good bow, too," she whispers, feeling Tony and Pepper's incredulous stares. "I'm really sorry."

And with that, she moves to a corner of the room and huddles into a ball, watching the floor. Her tears are endless until she finally falls asleep, regardless of Pepper's insistence that she move to a guest room. She simply doesn't feel worthy right now.

* * *

"And is there a reason the albino we're looking for is asleep in a corner of your living room?" she hears someone whisper.

"Yes, there is. I owed her one. So I'm paying her back."

"Tony?" she asks quietly.

There's a small moment of silence, then the sound of footsteps coming over, along with a warning whisper of the man's name. Someone's presence registers to her and she can feel them closing in on her. But she doesn't move as the floor squeaks when they kneel.

"What it is, Evean?"

"What time is it?"

She can hear Tony's movements as he turns around and looks to his friend, an eyebrow raised.

"It's, um… 6:30 in the morning," another man calls over. "We didn't wake you, did we?" he asks.

Evean raises her tired eyes and looks at the man for a moment before shaking her head. She looks at Tony, a grin forming on his face. A small thought about his overall 'optimistic' personality flits across her mind, along with the idea that it's five o'clock somewhere; there's a bourbon on the rocks in his hand.

"Well, why don't you get off the floor and stretch. I'll grab you a… vodka with banana rum, right?"

She nods with a small smile as she moves her stiff limbs. Again, five o'clock somewhere runs through her head. Good thing she said yes to that, too. Sleeping in the corner of the room was not her best decision last night.

"Right. I'll grab you that and then I'll show you to a room," he says simply.

Tony Stark stands from his crouch and moves towards the bar, tapping his friend's arm and nodding towards the girl. He mouths the word checkup to him and his friend nods. While Tony looks through the bottles at his bar, trying to find a good one for the morning, the other man walks over to Evean and holds out his hand.

When she looks up, all she sees is a kind, yet confused, smile and a pair of calming brown eyes. With a weak smile of her own, she takes his hand and lets him help her up. But when she tries to let go, he tightens his grip and guides her to a couch.

"Sit down, would you?"

With a quizzical look, she does as asked of her and takes a seat on the couch. The man lifts up her arm and stares at it for a bit, turning it this way and that before pressing down on a few spots. He then repeats this with the other arm before turning his attention to her head. Taking her chin in his hand, he turns her face left and right, then presses a few spots behind her ears and works his hands down her neck.

"If you're going to give me a checkup, Doc," she interrupts him with a smile, "then you might want to wait until I've taken a shower. A great deal of the dark spots on my skin are dirt."

With an amused smile, the doctor nods and stands up, just as Tony walks over with a glass. Evean turns and takes the drink, downing it all in one gulp before returning the glass. 'Doc' looks at Tony with a quirked eyebrow, but the billionaire just shrugs his shoulders with a grin and returns the glass to the bar.

"So," Evean starts off. "Is anyone going to tell me who the _lovely_ doctor is, or do I get to guess?"

With a slight blush, that's when he remembers his manners. He'd just touched a girl, albeit in a doctor-patient fashion, without introducing himself. The added knowledge makes him blush a little more, but he holds out his hand, none the less.

"Bruce Banner."

She smiles up at him, taking the proffered hand firmly and shaking it. "Evean Cole."

"Miss Evean," Jarvis addresses her over the intercom. "There's a Miss Carrie here to see you."

"Oh! Another girl-"

"Send her away, Jarvis," Evean quickly interrupts. "She's not welcome."

Tony pouts for a moment before registering the look on Evean's face. There's pure malice and distaste in her eyes, and her jaw is set in a grim expression. Bruce notices her fists clenched, taking away that joking atmosphere from a moment ago.

"Hey, Saint?" Tony asks as he walks back over. "What's up with you?"

Evean looks up at Stark, already decided that she'd be completely truthful. "I told you last night, Tony. It's _Evean._ And she took away my only chance at going home."

And with that, she turned her eyes to the ground and thought back to the week before, when she had still believed her partner had still been something of a 'friend.'

* * *

"I don't like it," Bruce mutters, staring at the surface of the bar counter.

As Evean showers in a guest room, the two men sitting in the main room discuss her treatment of the woman named Carrie. Tony has the security footage from the lobby up, showing the woman ask frantically about Evean, even using the nickname 'Sainty' when she was hysterically ranting about her. That same footage is replaying on a holographic screen above the bar.

"Me neither, pal. Why would this girl turn on her partner and then turn once again to come find her?"

"Not what I meant, but okay…" Bruce mutters.

Bruce looks at the hallway door for a moment, contemplating something. Evean is a trained assassin, taught to lie and kill without remorse. And yet, from what the SHIELD file tells about her, she's revered all around third world nations as a true saint for what she's done. And as far as he can tell, she's only hurt or killed people who were causing pain to others.

Still…

"What if Evean's lying?"

Tony shakes his head with a laugh. "No way, Brucey! You weren't there when she was checking everyone's pulses and letting me out of that suit. She'd been gentle, even set Barton's arm before she left. Did a good job, too, considering the things she had on her."

Bruce looks at Tony skeptically. "I highly doubt she took good care of all of you. Natasha and the two pilots came back unconscious and severely injured."

"She didn't fight any of them, either."

Bruce raises an eyebrow to his friend, then motions for him to continue.

"I've read the file on SHIELD's network, and it's all bullshit. Well, the darker stuff, at least. She's not a master 'assassin,' and she most certainly has a moral compass. She didn't harm any of us beyond knocking us out."

"She blew the plane out of the sky, Tony."

"But that was the only way she'd get us to land. If she hadn't shot at the plane, we wouldn't have landed and there would have been reinforcements in less than an hour," Tony countered. "The agents of SHIELD would have been scouring that area for hours looking for her."

Bruce rubs his forehead in irritation. "She still did it. And from the reports, she didn't even seem remorseful about it."

"But then she left them alone, too," Stark defends, ignoring the 'remorseful' comment. "Why would she leave them alone, and everyone unconscious, if she wanted us dead?"

"Because it would have been pointless bloodshed."

The two men look behind them to see the albino in a towel walking towards them, a second one running through her hair as she dries it.

"Sorry it took so long," she says cheerily before turning sheepish. "Does Pepper have any clothes I can borrow?"

Tony beams at her. "Of course! I'll be right back. Why don't you explain to Banner about the exploding arrow and the plane?"

She rolls her eyes as he walks away, then turns to Bruce.

"I don't care if you believe me or not, Doc," she states coolly. "But I would like it if you at least listened. Will you?"

Bruce sighs heavily before nodding and gesturing to the seat next to him. Evean can't help but notice the red tinge to his face. She blames it on the heat in the room, although in the back of her mind, she knows it's the towel. The memories of her former neighbor intrude into her thoughts as she takes a seat.

"Like I said, it would have been pointless bloodshed," she repeats to begin.

* * *

My reasoning has always been faulty, according to Leader. When I let a man trying to support his oversized family by selling drugs go, I gave him a second chance, checking up on him every week or so to make sure he went clean. And he did. I helped him get a good job, which he held well enough, except for a few touch and go moments, and pointed out a system for raising his kids.

But when Leader found out what I did, I was punished for ignoring orders. That was when Carrie came into the picture. She was ruthless and cold, giving my orders from Leader to me and reminding me repeatedly not to ignore them. The kills were meant to be just that; kills.

Until it came to a rather significant kill and her mind changed. She'd begged me to ignore the order and help her save a man from being offed by the organization. It turned out that Carrie's fiancé of several months was a sex trafficker, along with being a registered sex offender. This same man happens to be the last target I ever received from Leader. Maybe that's why Carrie turned on me; I finally listened to her nagging and it went against her wishes.

Truthfully, she was just a control freak who wanted everything and anything she desired put right in front of her. Pure blind faith kept me from noticing that. And only a miracle managed to get me out the way I am.

But after that particular assassination and I went to her house to report in, I should've realized something was up. She hadn't been upset with me in the slightest. She did her job the way she always did, albeit with a bit more of a cheery attitude. Maybe I associated it with Stockholm syndrome; my logic was probably that he abused her and she finally realized she was free once he was gone.

Whatever I thought, though, she still turned on me when Clint Barton caught up to us. I left her to reach a fellow operative's home while I took down Agent Barton and stole his gear, hoping to fend for myself for a week or so before returning to the organization a hero. I was named 'Saint' for that specific reason, after all. I'd become a hero to many people around the world and that knowledge of what good I've done fueled my desire to continue my work. Another thing that had blinded me to the stab in the back that happened.

When I was turned on by my partner… I'm not quite sure what happened to me. The flash drives that I had stored in my pockets were taken by her when she found me later on that night. I didn't even put up a fight, which went against every bit of training I'd ever had with the organization. And the only thing she didn't get was the Z drive. It's my only hope of returning to my family and friends within the organization now… if I can even call them that anymore. With the lies Carrie's probably spreading around, I doubt they'll be able to see my side without leaving several permanent scars on my body.

Hell, I'm debating just dropping it all and disappearing from the grid.

As a matter of fact, though, it was the day that you people finally surrounded me. Since I'd already fought one major battle, I simply didn't have it in me to fight my family as well. Plus I'd used one of my main pieces of equipment, my Shock Rod, to set Barton's broken arm earlier. So, with only a bow that an agent trusted his own life with, I ran. And man did that bow help.

I skipped over my reasoning for leaving everyone alive, didn't I? Well, there is reason for that. When I saw the way everyone tried to work with each other in their eyes, I could tell that they worked as a team and as a family… although dysfunctional should probably be put in there as well. When I saw their eyes as they tried to come up with a plan that worked with everyone else's, I saw my organization's primary ideal

When one of our own is trapped in a corner, we rescue them… at _all_ costs.

And it hurt to see that and then think of completely obliterating it. There just wasn't enough cruelty in me to ruin what the Avengers have. Lucky for all of you that trust is something that seems to be in abundance here, if how Tony's acting is anything to go by.

* * *

"So?" Tony asks Bruce later that night.

Evean had gone to bed, sleeping somewhat peacefully in one of the guest rooms of the tower. Meanwhile, the boys of science sit in the main room at the bar.

"Well-"

"Stark!" a rather aggravated voice calls from the elevator.

Someone bangs on the metal door, making both men at the bar jump. Bruce gives Tony a look and the arrogant billionaire shrugs. A small and amused smile crosses the doctor's face momentarily.

"I knew Barton was going to report to Fury about her being here. Couldn't just let him in, now could I?"

"Stark, open this door!" the man's angered tone reverberates through the room, and unfortunately beyond.

"Jarvis?" Tony calls. "Seal Evean's room please. And restrict Fury's access to the guest room wing of the tower."

"Yes, sir."

Tony moves over to the elevator and opens the door with his hand print on a scanner. When the door finally moves, a seething Fury and a slightly worried Barton are on the other side.

"Where is she, Stark?" is the first thing that comes from Fury's mouth as he pushes past Tony and heads towards the guest room section of the tower.

The door, however, would not budge.

"Stark," Fury said quietly. "Open this door."

"No can do, Eye patch," he replies calmly, moving back to the bar and pouring himself another drink. "She's asked for sanctuary here and I gave it to her."

Bruce gives Tony a look but says nothing. Barton says it instead.

"That's bullshit, Tony. She didn't say a single thing about sanctuary."

"While you were here. She said so this morning when she woke up. _After_ you left."

Fury is rubbing his temples, trying his best not to order for a rocket launcher to blow the door stopping him down. All the while, a curious and grouchy Evean is on the other side of the door, trying to keep herself from breaking into tears. Her thoughts on the matter – Tony Stark was trying to protect her. _Her!_ Even though she damaged his suit and his friends.

"Well, Evean," she mumbles to herself. "I suppose it's about time you stop hiding. Besides, you've got something valuable with you."

She reaches into her sock and rubs at something under her arch. Then she stands up and takes a deep breath, trying her best to calm her racing and ecstatic heart. Her hands fidget with the hem of the oversized t-shirt that had been borrowed from Tony's guest room closet. While she does that, Fury continues to yell on the other side of the door.

"Director, please. Have you even considered-"

"Quiet, Banner, this doesn't concern you."

"Of course it does! The girl is just trying to find a new home!"

As Evean hears the arguing on the other side of the door increase even further, she finally calms her heart and calls to Jarvis. Despite the AI's insistence that she stay out of the main room, though, she repeats her request. All eyes turn towards the opening door and the smiling albino girl. Fury is the first one to react, taking out a gun and pulling the trigger.

* * *

All I remember is opening the door with a soft smile on my face. The first thing I saw was Tony's flustered reaction. Good god, that face was hilarious; he probably thought I was locked in my room! Then there was Bruce's shocked expression, which made my heart warm up and my tummy get all tingly. After him was Clint and his shaken eyes, as if he saw something about to tear a puppy to pieces; a little graphic, I know, but when you do what I've done for so long…

That was when I noticed the fourth figure holding a smoking gun, along with the pain in my side and the tears forming. What I didn't feel or notice was my body hitting the ground as I collapsed. Well, I did notice it, but not until Bruce started applying pressure on my wound and Tony called for an ambulance. That was when I started talking.

"Thanks for at least trying, Doc."

* * *

Maybe I should be grateful to Tony… or not… not too sure. But when my eyes finally open after hovering in an endless darkness, all they see is brilliant white, and some random part of me thanks a million different gods that I'm alive. But my eyes are stinging and breathing is way more difficult than it should be. There's this unbelievable pain in my chest as a commotion starts around me. The pain in my abdomen recedes as something's removed from my mouth and my eyes are covered by a hand to stop the lights from continuing to blind me.

"-ear me?"

Wait… What?

"Can you hear me, Miss Cole?"

I move the hand in front of my eyes with my own shaking one. Although I can move it, it's really weak and it's taken by someone else and replaced beside me. In front of me is a man with brunette hair, graying streaks running through the locks. His brown eyes are calm to such a state that I'm reminded of Bruce. Speaking of Bruce…

"Where's the non-believer?" I smirk.

The man above me smiles in relief. "If you're making jokes, I think you'll be fine. Although you'll have to specify the 'non-believer.' I know quite a few."

I nod and try sitting up, instantly regretting so as a spark of pain runs through the entire left side of my body. Not my brightest idea, huh?

"Easy! You were shot yesterday. Don't rush yourself."

Shot… That's right… By some guy with an Eye patch. While my thoughts run away with me, I let the people in the room run through a physical examination, not even wincing at the pain. The first time had surprised me, but the rest I expected. And frankly, the organization's done worse; a lot worse.

"Well, you're good, for now. My name's Richard Stevens," the graying guy says to me as he holds out his hand.

"Evean Cole," I reply weakly, barely taking his hand before just dropping it across my gut.

"Would you not do that?" Stevens asks of me. "It'll make you healing take that much longer."

A smile flits across my face. The last time someone had worried about my health had been when I just joined the organization. As part of training, a girl assigned to room with me always had to deal with my injuries from punishments, mainly thanks to my moral compass and my major will against the not so moral. The vague thought on how the girl is doing runs through my head, since I haven't seen her since last year.

"Do what now?" I ask as my thoughts return to the present.

Stevens just sighs and shakes his head. "Nothing. Now, the 'non-believer?' Who is he?"

"Oh, that," I chuckle lightly, completely ignoring the pain. "That would be the lovely Dr. Bruce Banner and his partner in crime, Tony Stark, please. And keep the guy with the eye patch _away_ from me. I'd rather not be shot twice in 24 hours, thank you."

Stevens smiles at me. "I can see that."

And I'm left alone with my thoughts as he and the nurses leave the room. While they're out, I take in my surroundings. My clothes from yesterday are on the bedside table, but I know better than to try to change right now. Next to them is the Z drive. Frowning, a thought occurs and a curse to myself flits through my mind for not telling the wonderful Dr. Banner to take it. That's when the door opens and my thoughts are interrupted, annoyingly enough.

"I told you Fury!" Stevens yells as my shooter walks in. "She said she doesn't want you in here! You have to respect that; it's hospital policy!"

Fury turns his good eyes to Stevens and glares, receiving one in turn.

"Don't worry, Doc! Fury isn't touching a hair on her head," Tony's voice assures, putting me at ease as he walks in and up to me, patting the top of my head.

Barton and Bruce walk in next, followed quickly by the dear, usually star-spangled captain. The memory of his suit tries to force a smile to my face, but it's subdued before he can notice.

"She just woke up! You _all_ can't visit her right now!" Stevens starts up again, rubbing his temples.

"Doc?" I call quietly.

He turns to me and smiles. "What is it, Miss Cole?"

"First off," I start, "it's Evean to my friends." I smile kindly. "And it's alright for them to be here. I've been through much worse than a mere bullet to the gut and came back just fine. Hell, I did a marathon with a broken leg!" And a grin spreads across my face.

Forcing myself up, I ignore my protesting side. Before he even thinks of leaving, Stevens readjusts my pillow so I can sit up with ease. And man, does it help.

"Thanks," I say with a sweet smile.

"Just let me know when to kick them out," he sighs.

Once my doctor is out of the room, I turn to Bruce. "What exactly did I tell you after butt-munch shot me?"

The guy with the eye patch glares at me, his good eye twitching a bit.

Bruce looks confused for a moment, but then realizes what I said and looks down. "Something about a good try. I'm assuming that was a form of thanks for attempting to get Fury off your back."

I sigh in annoyance, mostly towards myself for not telling him the important part, and reach over to the bedside table. With the Z drive in my hand and held up, my voice raises and I address everyone.

"This is the Z drive. It contains information on every operative and member of the organization all around the world." I turn to Fury. "You can't have it," I tell him as if denying a sibling my ice cream.

He tries to open his mouth, but Tony beats him to it. "That's right, Cyclops! No flash drive for you. I'd be rather surprised if she trusted it to you really," he continues. "After all, she came out with no weapon and an innocent smile and you decided to shoot her in the gut. No faith!"

The man I recognize as Cappy frowns deeply. "I thought…"

"That's just it, though, Steve," Bruce sighs. "We all thought… This girl was kind enough to enlighten me to her organization's motto and a few bits of her training. The way she spoke of it made it seem like science camp, but when you think about it, it seems a lot more like a concentration camp from World War Two. "

I start to fiddle with my fingers, wanting to avoid the subject of my talk with Bruce. Talking about the organization so freely has caused plenty of problems for past operatives. Becoming one of them is not on my to-do list.

"Oh, really?" Fury asks sarcastically. "What, did she tell you she was kidnapped by a killer and forced to be a murderer against her own will?" No. "That she was sexually assaulted and abused as a child before finally conforming as an adult?" Wrong. "Or maybe she came up with some elaborate story about personal morals and a misguided sense of justice?"

Stop it.

"Let me guess, she decided that it was time to 'come clean' and told you a story about someone she loved and trusted to such a degree that-"

"Shut up!" I did do it. "Just shut up, you egotistical bastard!"

I _did_ do it. That's the thought running through my mind as I raise my head and glare at him, the tears slowly forming in my eyes. I'm well aware of what I am, of what I've done, of what I'll be forever condemned to. It's the one truth that keeps me going, and the one truth that will forever make me suffer as my heart continues to beat.

"_Our Grace of the Ethereal, hallowed be thy name_," I recite clearly. "_Forsaken though I am, I shall act as your guardian. And only in my moments of weakness shall I ask for your blessing_," I hiss at him. "Ever heard it? It's the prayer I recite every time I point a gun, every time I take aim, and every time I pull a trigger. I recite it when I get my assignments, when I'm headed to fulfill them, whenever I finish them.

"I say that one prayer every day at least a hundred times as I remind myself of every victim I've killed over the long years, keeping every file on a disc to remind myself that I. Am. A. _Monster_! Every day I walk around with hell below me, just waiting for me to drop on the pavement with blood running from every body part so the demons can collect my soul.

"So don't you dare stand there and treat me as if I'm trying to gain pity, because I'm not! Bruce wanted to know why I didn't kill your people when I beat the shit out of them. He wanted to know why I set Clint's arm, why I checked Cappy and Thor's pulses, why I let Tony out of his incapacitated suit and why the hell I would let the people threatening _my_ friends and family's lives continue to survive!

"So if you think for one second that I'm doing this because I want my freedom, because I want pity for myself, then walk away from me and my world right now! The only thing I want is for my actions to finally catch up to me! To finally see exactly what those I've sent to hell see just before the reaper comes.

"I don't need your shit for that to happen and I don't need your help to do what I plan to!"

Fury takes a deep breath and levels his gaze at me. Then a smile, a genuinely pleased smile, crosses his face.

"You've got guts, brat. Now why don't you tell me what that prayer really means?"

I glare at him. "It's the prayer for the Guardian Blood. Something that you will never understand, nor comprehend. It is the prayer used to create the one with the codename 'Saint' and forever mark them as an outsider."

* * *

"Alright, Fury, tell me exactly what's going on here," Tony says as the entire group steps out into the hallway.

Evean had sat in her bed and recited her prayer several times as she scrolled down a computer screen, that flash drive plugged in, until finally the men in the room simply couldn't stand seeing her torture herself and left. Now they're all standing in the sterile white hallway, Steve closing the door as he exits and blocking out her soft voice. The majority of the men release a quiet and relieved sigh at the click of the door.

"She needed a push," he explains quietly. "Just like you all did."

"You mean Phil?" Steve mutters. "That was still a horrible thing to do," Steve reminds Fury. "You need to stop playing with people's emotions to get what you want."

Fury looks at Steve critically. "I didn't manipulate her, if that's what you're thinking. I already knew she needed a new place to go when I walked into that tower. But I had been given explicit orders myself to shoot her on sight. The board was well aware of the fact that none of you would be able to do it."

Steve drops his eyes to the ground, muttering to himself.

"Why her, Fury?" Bruce questions. "What did she do to deserve being killed on sight?"

Nick Fury sighs heavily. "She killed one of the board members several years ago. What really ticked the other board members off was that it was her first target."

Bruce bites his lip, a little sickened. "But… She's barely Clint's age. How old was she?"

The director of SHIELD sighs deeper with a grim expression. "Not too sure, Dr. Banner," Fury replies. "Not too sure at all. All I do know is that we need her help to clear out a problem in our own agency. And the info we need is in that flash drive."

"I don't think she'll give that up easily, sir," Clint finally speaks up. "She seems pretty protective of it. And Tony's right – the likelihood that she trust SHIELD with it is extremely low."

He'd been watching it all from the sidelines, just as he'd been asked, gauging her every reaction and emotion. She clearly doesn't trust those in SHIELD, and aside from Tony and Bruce, she didn't seem to even want to talk to anyone. Adding in her outburst a little while ago, she clearly despises the government organization they're all a part of and would do anything to steer clear of it, if possible.

"I know that, Agent Barton. But I don't need the flash drive itself. Just a specific file."

"And which one would that be?" Steve asks hesitantly; the fact that he's afraid to hear the director's answer barely makes sense to him.

"SHIELD has been infiltrated by the organization she was part of. I just want her to go through the drive and find out which ones, along with their pictures, so we can do some personnel cleaning."

* * *

Stevens' being a real sweetie to me. I know he's married and all, so he no longer needs to keep up appearances to appeal to others, but that won't stop me from thinking he's being so sweet and kind. Far too much so for me. I've just finished reminding myself of my kills on a laptop that I borrowed from Tony, tears flowing freely as the Guardian Blood prayer leaves my lips one last time, when the good doctor walks in to check on me.

"How's your side? Too painful?" he assumes as he sees my tears.

I shake my head, wiping away the trails on my cheeks, and smile brightly. "Barely feel it!"

Stevens gives me a skeptic look as he picks up my chart. Running through the page in a quick skim, his eyes widen a great deal. He probably just saw my dosage, and I can tell he's neither happy nor calm about it.

"You're not taking any medication at all!?"

I smile even brighter. "That's right!"

And I lean back in bed, folding my arms behind me neck to relax, the protest of muscles not even registering as the synapses in my brain refuse to acknowledge it.

* * *

I've been in the hospital for the better part of a few days. Tony had brought me a backpack filled with video games to play while bored out of my mind. Unfortunately that got boring, too, which says a lot considering they're all related to my former career. So I've been sleeping for the last few hours. My eyes are only just now opening as the door slowly swings on its hinges. Instantly my eyes slam back shut, discreetly pressing a button in my hand.

Just as a shadow falls over me and my eyes snap open, whoever's above me easily restrained by an Iron Man suit. Good old Tony Stark had left a little protection for me when he left. Sitting up with a little difficulty I call out to the open laptop, the screen dark as it sits in hibernation.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes, Miss Evean?" the AI's automated voice replies as the screen brightens to a metallic orb that pulses with the syllables.

"Lights, please."

"Of course."

And the lights flicker on as Jarvis sends a wireless signal to the newly installed Stark tech from my trusty borrowed laptop. It's officially my room here at the hospital. And I've already let Stevens know that I'd be popping up a lot since he pretty much made himself my personal physician. Why do these people keep trusting me so easily? Although Tony did explain to me that the guy had a beef against Director Fury… Maybe that's why…

With a contented sigh as I prop myself against a painfully adjusted pillow, my gaze shifts to look at the person being held by Tony's suit. My face lights up with a smile; someone I hadn't expected to see ever again has paid me a hospital visit. Although the circumstances could be a lot better, considering what she's carrying. Hint: it's really shiny.

"Hello, Kale!"

The girl struggling against the suit, holding a silenced magnum in her hand, is none other than the girl I had tried to meet with when betrayed. It hadn't actually been her doing the shooting, but hey, it still hurt seeing her standing in the window and watching patiently. You'd think saving her life would've counted for something.

"Can I help you?" I ask kindly.

"Damn you, Saint! You're dead, do you hear me!?"

"Jarvis? Please restrain her to that chair."

As Jarvis commands the suit into encasing and subduing Kale, it sits down in a chair, forcing her head towards me with the mask up so I can see her. My smile fades as I see the pain and sorrow in her eyes, and I immediately know what happened.

"Why did Leader send you? Why not Stalker?" I ask gently.

She breaks down at the mention of Leader. "Because of Bangkok and Baku. She knew we were attached to each other after that, especially considering our connections during basic," she whispers. "I kill you," she sniffs, "or she tracks down each and every member of my family."

I watch her tears flowing down her cheeks, knowing exactly what's coming next. Leader has always dealt with these matter swiftly and without hesitation. Honestly, I expected Stalker to slip into my room tonight, not her techie partner, but Stalker and I have never seen eye to eye quite like Kale and I have.

"Then I get to watch them suffer and die every day for the rest of my life as I rot in a cell," she cries in pain.

I can't help but cringe at the thought of watching a loved one die, being helpless in stopping it. My eyes scan hers for a moment and I relent, asking Jarvis to let her go. The suit stands up and opens, letting her step out before it shrinks down to the size of a medium box with wheels and rolls under my bed. Kale resumes her seat as a depressive breath escapes her.

"Saint?" she cries softly. "What do I do?"

"You kill me."

She looks up at me in shock, no doubt surprised I would let her. I smile kindly back, seeing the tears forming all over again. It's obvious she doesn't want to harm me, let alone kill me, but that's the only way her family will stay safe.

"What choice is there, really? I'm 'Saint,' after all. It's in my job description to keep the innocent out of harm's way."

I remember telling Tony that we treat our captives differently when I first met him and my mind starts to wonder if it's truly better to respect our captives while we torture or coworkers. If someone fails their missions, they face dire consequences. But at least it had been the truth about the captives, although honestly there's always been that wish for the operatives to be treated the same way as the prisoners.

"Saint… you can't be serious," she whisper, horrified.

I shake my head with a laugh. "Please, Kale! Call me Evean. I'm no longer an operative, and I'll never be one again. Carrie's made damn sure of that."

Kale drops her head, knowing I'm right in the bottom of her heart; that tends to be the case with anything that comes out of my mouth. It's the only way to save those she loves. And yet…

"But I can't do it, Evean."

I look at her, a little confused. We've been trained since middle school to harm others, to kill living creatures, to mutilate bodies of our own free will, and to do it all with a clear conscience and a bright smile afterwards. How can she possibly say that harming me in a completely 'humane' way – quite a few of our strategies can be rather gruesome, so a simple bullet is seen as merciful to us – isn't possible? But as she looks up to my eyes, I understand what she's saying as she smiles weakly.

"When one of our own is trapped in a corner," I recite somberly.

"We rescue them at all costs," she finishes with a broken smile.

My eyes lock on her for a few moments before saying what's been on my mind. Her merely listening to me is enough to call for her assassination, but I want her to know exactly what's going to happen. Every detail that leaves my mouth sharpens her eyes and tightens her lips. By the time I'm done speaking, she's shaking her head in disbelief.

"Do you really think that will work, Evean?"

"I don't know," I whisper honestly. "But if I'm going to change things in that world I've been forced to abandon, I need to do something, right? This was the only thing I came up with that seems to be impossible."

"But why the impossible!?"

A smirk spreads itself across my face as I give her a look, one that she knows well. "Really, Kale? Really?"

The sigh she gives, and the shake of her head right after, makes me grin. "Because the only way you could ever operate," she mutters with annoyance, "is by doing the impossible."


	3. Chapter 3

It Finally Begins

There's a difference between understanding something and knowing something. A person can know that the human body is made of around 70 percent water, but that doesn't mean they understand that it's made of 70 percent water. They can know that eating is necessary to staying alive, but that doesn't mean they understand it.

And apparently Saint is one of those people. Nora walks along the hallways of the hospital, looking for the girl that had turned on the entire organization. She was well aware of the fact that Carrie had lied to the vast majority of the operatives, and that she's still doing so at this moment. But what she also understood was that once Saint had been completely turned on by everyone she'd interacted with in the last few years, the girl would feel abandoned and seek shelter. The girl would look for a new place to belong.

Despite knowing her ex-partner would return for the girl that the entire organization went to life sacrificing lengths to train, Saint would never understand exactly why the woman would come back. That lack of understanding is what led to the elimination decision. If only she hadn't turned on them all so readily, then none of this would have happened.

"Here we go," Nora mutters to herself.

Standing in front of a white door, she reads the name plate several times. 'Evean Cole' is typed out in crisp, clean characters. Next to it, the door's number had been removed and replaced by the Stark Enterprises logo. A grimness fell over the young looking woman as the understanding behind that symbol kicked in. If that symbol was there, then that meant the assassin had created a connection outside the organization – a dangerous thing to do in every way, shape and form.

"I'm sorry, Saint. But if you're not a part of this family anymore, there's nothing I can do."

And the small girl reaches out to take hold of the door handle, and her subordinate's life.

* * *

"I don't think that's wise," Bruce comments on the other side of the feed.

Evean and Kale are sitting on the hospital bed and speaking live with Tony, Bruce, and Steve through the borrowed laptop. The other two Avengers on Earth and Fury had either left the tower or gone to bed by now, so the three of them were the only ones who could answer the girls' call.

"Well, Evean thinks it's a good idea," Kale hisses. "And she's never had a bad one!"

The woman in question rolls her eyes. "It's not that I've never had a bad idea, Kale," she responds softly. "They've just always turned out for the better, despite the audacity. All my ideas are bad ones."

As the girls talk with the boys on the other side of the feed, the door handle turns ever so slowly. When Evean's senses pick it up, she taps her friend's arm and darts her eyes between the door and the computer on her lap. Kale manages to understand what's being said and yawns softly, yet fakely.

"Good night, _Anthony_," Evean says as the boys' conversation picks up.

Before the three men get very far, they all turn to the screen and stare at us, bewilderment stretched across their expressions. To their confused stares slowly turning to worry, I smirk, wink, then close off the connection to the laptop. Don't need any distractions, do we?

* * *

"This is bad," Tony says flatly, completely serious for once, as his skin pales slightly. "She used our code word."

"You think we didn't hear her?" Bruce replies, rummaging through the many experiments and papers on a table in an attempt to stay calm.

Despite the worry gnawing at them all, they're well aware that the albino girl can handle herself. She did take down the majority of the Avengers team by herself with only Barton's 'borrowed' bow as her backup. Whatever's going wrong in that room, they wouldn't need to be too worried until something comes up on a screen screaming _"Do something, dammit!"_ But then again…

"Jarvis! Open the hospital security feed for Evean's room," Tony calls out, a hard glint in his eyes.

"Yes, sir."

And then they see what they had never expected. A small girl in a sun dress stands above two grown women. Both are bloody and shaking as a knife is raised above their heads. But the Iron Man suit under the bed immediately flips over the hospital contraptions above it and attacks. While the small girl backs off towards the door, dodging the blasts from the palms of the robotic armor and cradling an injured arm, the other two women stand up proudly. Evean's eyes turn towards the camera watching the scene, and Tony could swear he sees her smirk and wink.

"Damn," he whistles. "She's good."

"She really is," Steve mutters just before frowning deeply. "Completely fooled her attacker… Just like she did us… But how the hell did she get that Iron Man suit? And who's piloting it?"

Bruce looks at Tony with a knowing smile. "I believe our billionaire playboy philanthropist and his AI have taken a liking to the albino girl. What is it this time, Tony? A crush?"

The billionaire grins happily. "More like adoptive sibling bonding! Want to join in? I'm sure we could make her green somehow! Add a little color to her cheeks."

* * *

When Stalker had opened the door to the room, Kale and I had acted exactly as she probably expected us to. With something akin to fear and terror filling our eyes and fueling all of our actions. Kale had slid off the side of the bed and onto the floor, forcing herself to shake in that false terror as the small woman with a stone-cold expression closed in on us.

But after several toying slashes at us, and letting her back us into the corner of the room, my fingers pressed in on that button in my hand once more, activating the protection program of the Iron Man suit. I assume it understands that Kale is no longer a threat, considering it now stands vigilantly, facing the door with raised arms and charged blasters. Note to self: Thank Stark immensely for the bodyguard.

"Jarvis," I call to the computer on the floor. "Please place the suit into standby mode."

"Of course, Miss Evean."

I'm quite amazed that the computer survived being tossed onto the floor, yet there it is, screen still bright and the video chat settings menu still open. Stark industries really does make some amazingly sturdy things for their consumers. Makes me wonder just how far the machine can be pushed before it finally breaks down and needs replacing.

"Evean," Kale whines. "You realize what we just did!? Leader's going to hunt us down!"

I smile at her and shake my head with an ecstatic laugh. "Kale, do you know why exactly you've always been treated with such great respect by the other techies?"

She stares at me blankly before shaking her head slowly. Of course she doesn't – she hasn't seen the information the organization entrusted to me that's on the Z drive. I suppose it's about time I show her a specific file, then. A smile creeps across my face; not a cruel one, but an excited one. One that would rival a kid's for going to Disney Land. Taking her wrist, we move over to kneel in front of the computer and open Stalker's file. What we see confuses us both…

* * *

There's very little that for me to do right now, even though I have been discharged from the hospital. Stevens gave me some rather specific instructions for getting better as fast as humanly possible. Unfortunately, though, those instructions also happen to be a few mere words that were set in stone… almost literally, if he hadn't gotten me to promise. 'Sit down and do nothing.' And the others are literally making me do just that at this very moment.

Currently, they've got me sitting on the couch in front of a TV screen watching a beloved children's cartoon from when I was small. Tom and Jerry… Ah, the memories. Jerry's currently waiting around a corner with the generic baseball bat while Tom's running around with a cast iron frying pan. It's rather hilarious, really, when the bat breaks into splinters over the cat's head and seconds later a mouse shaped indent is left in the pan.

As my extremely humored laughter fills the room, I can feel a few smiles and looks thrown my way from the bar; even Kale is sitting over there and chatting with everyone. It had taken only a few hours for the team, minus two assassins, to accept her into their midst. Only another hour for them to trust her with a few not-so-deep secrets. Just easy stuff like where Tony's porn stash is and why Bruce is currently hiding from SHIELD in Stark Towers. Bruce is pretty easy to guess, in case you're wondering; that's why it's 'not-so-deep.'

Everything here is going good. It's all quite calm and completely enjoyable. Frankly, I don't think I've had a time where a major part of me wasn't eagerly awaiting a mission from the organization leader. And frankly, again, there no plan anywhere in my head that will ever have me eagerly awaiting them anymore.

"Yo, Evean!" Kale cheered as she hops over the back of the couch, landing next to me.

"Hey, Kale!"

"So, tell me."

I look at her, lost completely, as we stare at each other… What exactly is she expecting me to say? When her eyes roll in their sockets, the urge to slap her upside the head pops up so very forcefully; my restraint barely manages to hold it back. We may not be part of the organization anymore, but that doesn't mean I'm not superior to her; there's at least a year of age difference there! With me being the elder!

"Which guy, smart one?" she presses quietly.

"What do you mean?" I'm seriously lost right now.

I look past her for a moment, staring at the bar where all the guys of the Avengers are gathered, minus one demi-god. Is she talking about them? If so, um, what does she want to know about them?

"Which one are you gonna pick, silly?" she giggles. "They've all got a small thing for you, I'm sure! Just spent the better part of an hour grilling them on their treatment of you. Only one I couldn't get to talk was Robin Hood."

A chuckle escapes me at the mention of Barton. Quite frankly, she probably got nothing out of him due to the knockouts he's suffered… What can I say? I'm just that amazing at my job.

"Doesn't surprise me," is muttered under my breath.

"So? Which one?"

My eyes roll as I shake my head at her. Honestly, probably should have seen this question coming; Kale always did like girl talks, although, personally, there's never really been any appeal to me. Then again… I did start to care a little while ago, didn't I? The first time Barton went up against me and got the crap out of himself in that parking garage. Sort of realized then that saying a boy was cute or that there was actually a feeling attraction to one wasn't illegal anymore. Damn… there's a lot of overlooked stuff from recent exploits, huh?

"You know… I'm not sure," is my slow reply as my eyes fixate on the group of boys. "Clint's a strong possibility. He's so cute when he smirks!" A smile graces my lips as I turn my focus back on my friend.

She grins with a proud glint in her eyes. "Oh, young grasshopper. There's a lot more to relationships than just being cute."

With my tongue stuck out, my mind wanders, thinking for a moment. "Well, then," I say with a smirk. "I guess you'll just have to get me caught up."

And with that, I get up from the couch and wink at her, a hand outstretched in a request for some help.

* * *

The Z drive has been in my right sock the entire time since I left the hospital. It's not going anywhere without me knowing about it. If it does somehow manage to slip out of my presence, that situation will be immediately rectified. Regardless of an assassin status, this little flash drive in my shoe will always be by my side. No one else gets to play with it, no one else gets to use it, no one else gets to see it… that is, unless I say so, of course. This just so happens to be one of those _extremely_ rare occasions.

Finally free of the hospital, the video footage from my room has fumigated Stalker from SHIELD headquarters, and her name has been added to their list. I can honestly say with pure happiness that mine has been removed. Although, truthfully, they didn't actually have my _name_ on their list, so much as my general existence. Maybe that's why they had Clint tailing me that day; they wanted him to get a name and a face for their database. Well, whatever.

Currently, I'm sitting in the labs with Tony, Bruce, and Clint, scrolling through file after file of information in the Z drive. Honestly, how many operatives do we have? Then again, we are worldwide, so the length of the listed files and the sheer size of them really shouldn't shock me. What does is that they're all so easily contained on the drive itself.

Tony stops the screen on a particular name – Cole, Evean Codename 'Saint.' Why the hell does he want to see that one? If he wants to know something about me, shouldn't he just ask instead? Then again, from what Steve and Pepper have told me that may not be the brightest thing to suggest to Richie Rich. As he pulls the file from the directory and into his own screen, I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Stark?"

"Yup?"

"What are you doing?" I ask warily as I look over his shoulder.

The entire file has been copied to the Stark Industries Mainframe, and there is no way for me to ever be happy about that. Maybe, if the database is weak enough, I'll be able to hack in and delete it later on.

"Just checking your credentials," he replies with a straight face. "Blueberry?"

My gaze locks onto the bag held out to me. Although I'm finding myself fond of the man, not quite fond enough to share food with him. My past has instilled in me the need to keep some things separate, including certain habits and quirks. The habit of avoiding food that my own two hands did not make is one of said aspects that I'm keeping separated from everything else. It's one of the few characteristics of mine that will remain forever the same, for safety's sake.

With a shake of my head, I turn back to my own screen, scanning for the codename Stalker. Only issue is, it's not here. A frown spreads across my lips once more as my fingers flick the screen, scrolling the list back towards the top. Where the hell is it?

"What are you looking for?" Bruce questions as he stares at my screen.

"Stalker's file. It should be here, but it's not…" my voice trails, thinking back to when Kale searched through the file almost religiously in the hospital; a part of me hoped it had been a trick of some kind.

There's only one reason for that occurrence, and it's not one that anyone will like. If that particular person in the organization's hierarchy slipped into SHIELD's building so easily, then there'll be a lot of questioning for any future recruits. Not to mention a great deal of agents that are currently employed.

Clenching my eyes shut as the list stops at the top, that chilled feeling begins to settle into my stomach. This is very, very, _very_ bad. Fury isn't going to like this in the slightest, especially since the person who's going to have to tell him isn't even a part of his staff. Although, that fact might save me a great deal of trouble in the imminent event; he can't actually do anything to me, at least, not legally.

After a deep sigh, my body slides off of the high sitting stool and onto my own two feet. My limbs are still aching a little after being bedridden for so long, but hey, that's fine by me. So long as I can keep moving the way I want to.

"I suppose I better go tell the 'director' about his latest betrayal and what it means… God, I really don't want to!"

Clint looks at me from Tony's screen with a small smirk. He's still a little upset with me for beating him down… twice. But I had to! At the time, everything was still for the sake of my 'family.' What other choice was there for me?

"And why's that?"

I give a deadpan look. "You know perfectly well why," my voices hisses out.

His smirk grows and he looks back to the screen. My fingers snatch the drive from its USB port, my feet carrying me away as the three boys turn their full attentions to the screen with my file open. They can spend as much time as they like in that file; there's an easier way to learn about me, but I guess they want the challenge of decoding the text in the documents.

* * *

First thing decrypted, a list of targets and instructions. This particular file is broken up by names, alphabetically sorted via surname, then by date. Tony and Clint are looking through the files separately, looking for a particular name. Nick Fury had given the boys a specific name to find in the Z-drive file. Although the files didn't include the actual reports that the other flash drives no doubt held, the man's name had to be in here somewhere.

Jacob Nichols was the very first target that the girl codenamed 'Saint' had ever been given. Once they found his name, they copied the rather small entry into a new text file and pushed it to the side.

Next was background information. Fury had wanted to know who their latest houseguest was before her organization had gotten a hold of her. When they find this particular information, both are sickened by the realization of what the girl they know as Evean Cole has been through, and what she had been before her 'family.'

"What are you guys doing?" Bruce asks, exasperation etching his expression as he walks into the lab.

His guess is somewhere along the lines of spying on their new roommate. Although, he knew that was a very low possibility, since most of the boys _really_ didn't think it a bright idea to cross her. She'd dropped a demi-god in mid battle with three other Avengers involved.

When his eyes see the file his friends have open, he blanches. Quickly, he covers his mouth, holding back the bile that rose in his throat as he watches a video on a 'training session,' as the video is labeled. In his mind, he can't even begin to fathom how the girl, at what appears to be one of the most fragile ages in any person's life, handled that hell.

Tied to a table, breathing heavily, holding back screams and tears, a preteen girl is covered head to toe in gashes and cuts, marring her body, bruises practically destroying any recognizable part of her face. Men in lab coats are moving all around her, stabbing needles into her anywhere that isn't already injured and injecting substance after substance. Until finally, a small girl in a summer dress, probably no older than 13 if one didn't know any better, walks in and dismisses them with a wave of her hand.

There's an assault rifle on her back, held there by a strap across her chest as she looks about. She doesn't waste time, moving past the table to a cabinet in the back of the room and rifling through the bottles and cans in it. Finally, her hand removes, with what seems to be great purpose and joy, a mere vial of liquid. The girl on the table seems unaware of what's happening.

Nora, as the men recognize her with finality as the small girl in the video turns from the cabinet, moves over to the one tied to the table. With absolute resolve and dignity, she takes the only needle that hasn't been used from a tray and attaches it to a syringe. She then drains the vile of its liquid content, turning the injection implement upside down and flicking it a few times to remove any air. With a small squirt and a satisfied smile, the girl turns to the one strapped down, still in pain and now shaking greatly.

"Don't worry," Nora says sweetly. "This will only sting for a moment."

And then the injection. The effect is almost immediate. Bruce, Clint and Tony memorize the appearance from before the shot instantly, wanting to not lose sight of the original Evean Cole. A soft sheen of brown hair, sun-kissed skin peaking out from underneath the injuries, one green and one blue eye, both crystal clear, and a curvy figure.

Then comes the screams. Ear shattering, blood curdling, heart wrenching, the sound reverberates off the walls of the lab the three stand in. None of them can look from the screen, no matter how sick they feel, or how much they and their own bodies want to. Her hair, the original dark brown, begins to lighten infinitely, until purely white. Every inch of her skin begins to pale, as if affected by the same disease as Michael Jackson, rest his soul. And of course, there's her formerly heterochromatic eyes.

When the screaming had started, the orbs had been hidden by eyelids snapping shut. And only now do they open once again, another scream tearing from her lips. The tears that had slowed down pick up their pace once more, mixing with a dark red substance none of the boys wish to identify. And the color of her eyes begin to shift, slowly, to that red they all recognize by now.

On the screen before them is the Evean Cole that they all know, panting and whimpering as the cuts on her body begin to close and the bruises heal. The blood on the table slowly soaks itself back into the wounds as she cries out every so often in pain.

"Well, well," Nora muses to herself after standing contentedly at the end of the table, hands clasped behind her back. "It seems we have the next Saint… I believe your training shall be rather eventful."

Before anything more can happen, Bruce swiftly reaches out and shuts down the file. Breathing heavily, his heart rate at a dangerously high level, he removes his glass and tosses them to a table. His fingers begin to rub his temple as he tries his best to remain calm.

"Don't ignore it, boys."

All three turn in surprise to an emotionless expression. Evean herself is leaning on the frame of the glass door to the lab, her face completely blank and her eyes void of feeling. It's the one thing they didn't expect of her. Tears, yes. Pain, absolutely. They all expected that when they saw her next and brought it up, they'd need to console her; it was an instant belief that's been drilled into them since they were children. Anyone who'd gone through that kind of hell would need some sort of help from others.

Yet here she stands, emotionless and unaffected by the video. And what's more, they can see her _not _forcing herself to smile at them. Everything in the smile on her face is anything but painful or sad. If anything, it's prideful and strong.

* * *

"You found what?" Nick Fury asks in disbelief.

"You heard me, Fury," Tony Stark replies with exhaustion. "We found a video of her becoming who she is. Of that Nora woman you introduced to us transforming her into the albino we all know and love."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's labeled 'training video.' These people obviously have a different idea of training than you do," comes a quiet and torn voice from Bruce. "Whatever hell she's been through, those videos hold it all. And they're by no means for the faint of heart."

Clint is sitting on a table next to the computer screen, staring at the files of videos, trying his best not to think about the horror of the only one any of them had even the guts to reopen. But even then, they could only watch the first few moments, before the slashing and assault had begun. Even then, they could barely stomach what they saw, the difference that those men in lab coats made with a few scalpels and brass knuckles on their fists.

Sure, SHIELD training is tough. But it's nowhere near as terrible as being forced into a new persona and life by experimentation and injection. These people most likely dragged her from her home with some made up nonsense about saving the world, adventure, and fame. Then used her as a test subject for whatever was in that vial.

"So what? We already knew she went through some training for whatever the hell she needed to do. Why is this even remotely important?" Nick Fury asks agitatedly.

He had received the girl's own report on the missing file from the Z drive and what that meant before these three called. It wasn't the best thing in the world that he wanted to hear, but it gave SHIELD a heads up on how lax they've been on their security and their information on their operatives. What these three are telling him doesn't seem nearly as important right now.

"Because of that 'prayer' of hers. She said it herself, Director. That prayer is used to create the operative codenamed 'Saint.' The prayer of this 'Guardian Blood,'" Clint manages to say through clenched teeth. "Whatever it is _Nora_ injected into her system, it was what created the albino personage we identify her by."

Fury quirks an eyebrow, thinking quickly. "So you believe that this girl we all call Evean Cole was _forced_ into her current predicament by Nora, who we all know has gone off the radar after a so-called _false_ order had been given to silence the girl. Is there anything in there I need to be concerned about?"

All three of them look at Fury through the feed, each one's eyes is completely serious and lacking any amusement or caution. It's rare for any of the Avengers to drop a critical part of their personality, making Fury well aware of what they want. Internally, he smirks at the turn of events; goading would not be required this time around.

"Agent Barton, return to the hellicarrier. Bring Agent Romanov with you. I want you two to work from here tracking down Nora."

The man in question slides from his perch on the lab table and dashes from the room, all too eager to catch the small woman. Tony and Bruce stare impatiently for the next words from Fury's mouth.

"Dr. Banner. Stark. I'm sending Nora's personnel file to your systems. Study it carefully and get to work tracking her in your… _own_ way."

Both quirk an eyebrow at him, but say nothing. Then his image disappears with a beep from the system.

* * *

"How do you feel?" Bruce asks me as I sit in the chair with my eyes closed.

Currently, there's a needle in my arm, an all too familiar feeling trying to gag in my throat, and a lightness in my head. No doubt all these things are occurring because Bruce had asked me for a blood sample. I couldn't very well say _no_ when he told me what the sample was for. But I'm also no fool; my body and mind have been through this before and there is no cure.

"I'm fine, Doc. Just hurry up," I whisper in reply.

The sad smile on his face doesn't need to be seen. That familiar air about him changes slightly from the usual cautious, shy, and apprehensive to cautious, shy, and somewhat depressed. These people really need to ease up.

"Alright, done."

The needle slides from my arm and a sigh of relief immediately escapes me. Even before that 'session' I never liked needles. They just seem… needley. Thankfully, Bruce and Tony are being rather considerate of that fact. Both scientists have even gone so far to make me feel welcome; even though they're the only two in the tower, I'm never left in silent seclusion.

Okay, it _does_ get a little annoying when I want to be alone for a few minutes, but it's easy to understand why they're so worried. That video really shook everyone up when they saw it, and it was rather surprising that my name wasn't immediately put under a SHIELD designated 24/7 protection program. Maybe the boys had something to do with that, but whatever. The point is, they're being super caring about it all, and I'm okay with that if it makes them feel better.

Before I forget, though.

Under my breath, while Bruce is on the other side of the lab, putting the vile of my blood into a fridge for storage, I whisper my prayer.

"_Our Grace of the Ethereal, hallowed be thy name. Forsaken though I am, I ask for your blessing._"

Opening my eyes, I look at Bruce, whose back is turned to me. Absently, as the pinprick in my arm closes up neatly with no mark left behind, my mind wonders about his own condition. Tony had told me not to upset the guy, in case the 'other one' was waiting on the other side of his composure. Maybe he'd meant something important by that, but every part of me honestly can't see Bruce as being cruel or unkind, even if upset.

But, hey, I'm new here. What do I know?

"Anything else, Doc?" I call out, still on the chair.

He looks over from the fridge and smiles softly. "Not unless you want to tell me something."

Then he closes the lab's fridge, which no doubt also has his lunch in it that he probably won't eat. Something does come to my mind at that purely innocent thought. Bruce usually starves himself until he absolutely _has_ to eat something to survive. Absently, my mind wanders to my meager cooking skills, and whether or not I should try to improve them. I am imposing on these people, after all.

With a small smile, seeing that concerned look on his face, I realize that my eyes had been staring and shake my head. I then hop up from the chair and wave bye to him as my feet carry me out the exit of the room for the day. His smile returns to his face, but that concern is still etched into his skin. Note to self: no more staring.

* * *

My nose crinkles at the box. Who the hell eats this stuff? Mac and Cheese? It's pretty much ramen noodles covered in cheese flavored powder. At least, that's how I see it. With an agitated shake of my head, the box is tossed none to gently back into the cabinet. There's got to be some _real_ food somewhere in this place.

About an hour ago, only a few minutes after waking up this morning, there had been the urge to sneak back into the lab to check on the science bros. Both were asleep and something like a simulation was running on the computer screen. Knowing neither would wake up, what with my experience with my own former techie named Carrie, I casually walked over to the lab fridge and pulled it open. There was about five days' worth of food in it, and at least a month's worth that had spoiled.

After clearing out the stuff that obviously could poison them, what with all the mold and crap on it, I proceeded to look through the cabinets in the kitchen. These two need some real food, not the box dinner crap they've got down in the lab. Still wondering why they think it's bright to have their meals right next to the bottles labeled with 'Blood Sample whatever letter,' a few petri dishes labeled with some rather contagious diseases, and another bottle with a questionable purple liquid in it… Well, whatever floats their boats.

Anyway, I've been looking around this kitchen and debating for an hour on what to do with any of the useless boxes here. So far, no luck. Man, where's Pepper when you need her?

"Something wrong?"

I jump and squeak at the sudden voice. Then swiftly turn around to face that godsend of a ginger woman. With a bright smile plastered to my face, my head eagerly shakes up and down. A carefully plucked eyebrow quirks at me in question as an amused smile crosses her own face; she's probably wondering if I'm sane right now.

"There's nothing here for a good home cooked meal!" I whine like a little girl. "How am I supposed to cook if there aren't ingredients for it?" I sniff dramatically, wiping away a non-existent tear, and sag my entire upper body.

"Well," she smirks at me, "I've got Tony's debit card," she suggests. "Why don't we just fix this little predicament right now?"

And with a knowing and sympathetic smile, she guides me towards the elevator.

"Which reminds me!" she says, smacking her forehead. "Thor's coming back today. We're gonna need a lot of food for that one. And some Poptarts. Along with several cans of chicken noodle, tomato and vegetable soup."

I look at her incredulously. "He sounds like a 16 year old."

Her smile is bright as she shakes her head with a light laugh. "More like a giant, bottomless puppy!"

* * *

The science bros wake up to a loud beeping noise as the simulations they'd run ends. As the results start to scroll down the screen, Tony and Bruce both groan in defeat. No matter what they'd told the computer to combine the blood with, everything ended up with paralysis, deformity, amputation, or some other side effect that the boys did _not_ want to inflict her with.

It had been Tony's idea to try and reverse the effects that the injection Evean had been given caused. With every new remedy they came up with, there was an exponentially reducing surge of hope. And with every simulation, an exponentially increasing surge of disappointment. Finally, after several hundred tests on the strain of DNA they retrieved from the blood and the actual blood itself, they find themselves in a rut. With no other course of action, they hang up their lab coats and head upstairs for some much needed non-science time.

What registers first is the smell. Something being cooked in the kitchen, obviously. The next thing that registers is Pepper walking into the dining area on the other side of the room and carrying a pot in her hands. Seeing the boys, she smiles brightly while placing the pot in the middle.

"Perfect timing, boys!"

Her joy filled smile, along with Evean's as the albino walks out with two bowls in hand, summons them to the set table. Just as they sit down, the elevator dings and the door opens.

"Hello, friends!"

Thor, dressed in surprisingly normal clothes, walks in briskly, beaming. Wearing a dark blue t-shirt, which fits a bit tightly, and light blue jeans, he strides over to Evean and pulls her into a hug. Pepper barely manages to take the bowls from the girl before Thor crushes her to such an extent that they're dropped.

"It is good to see you on our side! Our fight has plagued me greatly, and I wish to never have to face you again!"

"Is that because I'm a girl," she breathes through the crushing hug, "or because I kicked you in the face?"

His booming laugh fills the room as he releases her from his grip. As she catches her breath, leaning on a chair, Thor turns to Pepper and bows slightly.

"Lady Pepper! You look as elegant as always."

"Thank you, Thor. Take a seat! It's 'family' night, and Evean and I made chili and pot roast," she cheers brightly.

"We'll get the rest of it, just start serving yourselves," Evean assures them.

"Hold it, Thor!" Pepper stops the Asgardian. "That's not your plate."

"This is," Evean says, carrying two bowl on a larger plate with a third in her other hand.

Once she sets down the singular bowl, the other two move from the plate and she hands it over to the large being. With a large grin, he starts serving himself once more. The girls, smirking knowingly, move back into the kitchen to grab the other bowls. They had to fill two bowls of everything, making sure there was plenty for the bottomless pit of a man. And boy, are they glad they did.

Once the girls themselves are sat down, they notice that half the rather _large_ bowls have already been emptied. Which means Thor has already gotten his first serving of everything. The pot of chili, which Pepper had insisted on for the large man, is next to him, probably half empty if they were to actually try looking into it.

Smiling softly, Evean decides on pot roast, much like Pepper, and starts pulling vegetables onto her plate alongside the tender meat. As everyone eats their food, the topic of Evean's past somehow comes up. Right after Bruce's, as a matter of fact.

"You don't remember school at all?" Pepper asks quietly, a sad look on her face.

Evean just shakes her head before continuing. "There's nothing there _to_ remember. It's the same for any kid, after all. Get up, eat breakfast, go to the prison that is school, wait eight hours, go home, then do something fun while ignoring homework. All I remember of school is falling asleep one day in class and having a textbook slammed on my desk to wake me up."

Tony chuckles at the mention of a teacher's number way to wake up a student. Although it's frowned upon, it tend to be quite common with social studies teachers. That particular subject tends to have very thick textbooks, making it a perfect solution to the problematic napping child.

"What about teachers? Didn't you have a favorite?" Bruce asks next.

After a moment of thought, Evean smiles softly. "I think I did. But I haven't thought about it for so long… I don't really remember her name. I do remember that she always brought in cookies after the class did well on a test. And if we didn't, she'd promise us cookies afterwards if everyone could answer a few simple questions. We usually did, so no matter what, we were rewarded for even showing up to class."

"Can you recall this woman's appearance?" Thor's interest in her appearance made sense to Evean.

Usually you would associate that teacher's looks to their actions, so you could always pick out people similar and judge them accordingly, creating a personal stereotype. Unfortunately, though…

"I can't," Evean whispers. "A side effect of being brutally trained, I'm afraid."

"Are you sure it was the training," Tony whispers, "and not that injection?"

With the mention of that dark day, Evean sighs quietly. That was the one topic she'd wanted to avoid. Of course, she knew the truth about that side effect; it _is_ the fault of the injection. But she'd also seen how hard the boys were working on 'curing' her of the already known side effects. And with every failure, they were losing more and more hope, and falling further and further into their work. Too afraid of seeing them lock themselves away for even further extended periods of time, Evean nods her head.

"If it was a side effect of the Guardian Blood, I would have mentioned it to the organization's doctors. I was required to take a physical and report any changes in my physical and mental health every year."

Bruce eyes Evean warily, knowing quite well that she's lying through her teeth. With a small sigh, he turns back to his meal, as do the others, and they finish quietly, each in deep thought.

* * *

"You told them what!?"

Kale has come over for a visit. Although she was welcome to stay in the tower, courtesy of Pepper and Tony, but more so Pepper, she had declined. Believing that housing one fugitive of the organization was problematic enough, she'd taken up an offer from Nick Fury to become a tech agent for SHIELD. Of course, she had a few more 'privileges' than the others did.

For starters, if I ever called her to join me at Stark Tower, she would be sent over immediately. Keeping me safe and happy is apparently Fury's utmost priority. Why is beyond me, although Kale has a theory on that one. Something to do with keeping the Avengers on task.

And if anyone gets a sign of Nora, aka Stalker, then she's transported immediately to a cozy safe house on Lake Superior's shore. I'm supposed to join her as well, but I have other plans for when the government agency finds that brat.

Plus, just in case another operative is sent after her, either Clint or Natasha are with her the majority of the time. Especially if she gets off the hellicarrier. That particular set of lines answered a question I hadn't even known I'd had. Kale believes all this caution to be a bit over the top, but I've assured her several times that it's better to be safe than sorry. Especially since 'sorry' translates perfectly to 'dead.'

And right now, we're perfectly safe here in Stark Tower while I'm telling her about that hidden side effect of the guardian blood. She is, quite frankly, the only person that ever knew about my memory issue. And since that's how I want it to remain, she's the only person I can talk to about it and any problems concerning the condition. That may or may not have been my brightest idea, but I'm working with it, for now.

"It's not what I _did_ tell them. It's what I _didn't_ tell them, stupid."

"Alright," she mutters angrily. "What did you not tell?"

"What I _did_ tell them is easily accessed from the file they copied from the Z drive. What they _haven't_ been told, on the other hand, is the full extent of the side effects of the injection."

She gives me an appraising look, as if trying to figure out the plan laid out in my head. When she turns away with a sigh, my own eyes appraise her, coming to the conclusion that she has indeed figured it out. Instead of telling them each and every side effect in hopes of them reversing the injection, my plan is to let them run their current course. Work hard until they realize there's nothing to be done about it, then drag them off and force them to look at the brighter side of it all.

Kale turns back to me, smiling sadly. "So that's it then? No future?"

My own sad smile returns hers. What she's talking about is the eventual claim that the injection will make on me. Even though my body more or less accepted the liquid that Nora had given it, the Guardian Blood is not something for a mere mortal to have running through their systems. A few more years and the blood will take something more precious to me than life.

"Afraid so," I mutter under my breath. "No more Coles will be entering this world through me."

What the Guardian Blood will claim is my ability to have a family. It will, eventually, make me completely sterile.

* * *

"Given it any more thought?" Kale asks her after a few hours of staring off into the horizon of New York City.

Leaning back on her hands, her blood red eyes staring off into the distance, Evean Cole shakes her head, a laugh escaping her. The topic had been breached, and there was no getting out of it this time around.

"No, Kale. And quite frankly, there's no real reason to think about it."

Said techie's cheeks puff out like a child. "Why not!?"

When Evean turns to the girl, Kale's expression turns to wonder at the glint in her eyes. That smile spreading across her friend's face is gorgeous, despite the fact that her skin is far too pale and her hair far too light. Even with the effects of the injection from when the organization first took her, Evean Cole manages to maintain a beauty most girl could never hope to match.

With that smile widening, the albino opens her mouth. "You don't pick who you love, silly!"

At that declaration, the albino turns back to the skyline, her eyes fogging as she stares off once more. The two of them had gone through conversations with a similar start to this one, only it had ended up more with Evean doing pros and cons for every boy in the tower. It's been narrowed down to Barton and Banner, what with two of the boys dating someone already and the fifth one hung up on a girl from the 40s. Kale smiles sadly, much like she had hours ago during their conversation on the future.

"So that's it then?" she asks quietly. "You're just going to let it all happen?"

Evean nods absently. "What will happen will happen by the power of Her Grace."

Kale sighs with extreme exasperation. "I still don't get who this woman is!"

When Evean starts laughing, Kale can't help but smile at her friend. Although the world had conspired against the albino, she still managed to turn out well in the end. The organization attempted to break her, but she is far from broken and has the intent to return the favor.

* * *

"Another failure," Bruce groans. "At this rate, we're going to get nowhere."

Tony, head in his hands, tries his best to ignore the latest results of a simulation. With all the work they've put into finding a reversal method against the injection, the two have driven themselves so close to exhaustion. The only saving grace the two seem to have when close to falling out of their chairs is-

"Enough already!"

Both jump, having slightly dozed off, to see an annoyed albino standing in the door to the lab. The look in her eyes makes both boys swallow hard, and Bruce begins to do breathing control to slow down his heart rate. All things problematic with the good doctor aside, the girl herself seem well past the point of return. If she could turn green, she would be a force to be reckoned with at the moment.

"Both of you," she demands. "Upstairs. Now."

And with that, she turns around and heads up and out of the labs.

Bruce turns to his fellow scientist, slight concern showing in his eyes. "Do you know…?"

Tony shakes his head, concern showing just as much in his own orbs. "No clue… But something tells me we better get up there in the next few minutes."

After another moment of waiting, the two scurry to place their lab coats on some hooks and dash out of the room. When they rush into the main room, they see the entire group congregated around the dining table, assassins and techie of SHIELD included. The sight confuses them slightly until Evean gestures to the empty chairs at the table.

"Sit."

And they do, starting off the long conversation that the entire Avengers group was bound to have, be it by Nick Fury's demand or their own prerogative.


End file.
